Redemption of a Snake
by Kanui d'Astor
Summary: Chap 12 UP! To take a Slytherin back to Light, it takes Darkness even greater than the one he has to escape, and a small lamp to illuminate his way through the suffering he will have to endure. RemusDraco. NOT a dark fic!
1. Chapter 1 : Just under our noses

**Synopsis**: When Remus Lupin decides to take part in a Malfoy's redemption, he simply finds more than he expected. What secret is Draco hiding? What is he afraid of? How much did they all underestimated the boy's intelligence? Remus/Draco, Severus/Draco.

**Author's note:** Many thanks to Mariann Wammack for beta-ing this chapter.

Redemption of a Snake

_Flashback_

"_Hi!" a child saluted._

_Remus looked at the little boy, then at the place surrounding him. The past night had been a full moon. From the half-conscious state he was in when the wolf took the upper hand in his body, he had witnessed his escape from the room he had locked himself in. The wolf had run at random for hours in a neighbouring forest then finally reached a small borough. The sunrise had surprised him at this point of his tour. Surely some kind people had found him lying on the dusty ground and taken him in. The boy ought to be their son… Except that his features were strangely familiar… _

"_Hello," he said back._

_An aged woman entered the room. "You're awake? How fare you?" _

"_Fine, thank you."_

_The woman explained what he had thought: in the morning, they had discovered his unconscious body in their garden. She brought him a breakfast and cookies for the boy then left them together._

"_My name is Draco; I will be six in a month." the child said while crunching his cakes, "And you?"_

_Now, he understood: he was on the Malfoy's lands. The boy was Lucius Malfoy's son. His aristocratic features and light blond hair were like a mini version of his father's. No doubt he would be well educated the 'Malfoy' way by the time he entered Hogwarts. "My name is Remus," he answered._

"_Great! As in the story with the wolf! D'you have a twin?"_

_Remus smiled at the eagerness in the voice. "No, I'm an only child."_

"_Oh… I s'pose it's better for you. He won't kill you this way. I also am an only child. Mum says one monkey is enough in her house. She thinks I can't understand her but I do. I hate her. Why do you smile? You think I don't hate her? I know you think that, many people think that. They say: 'Of course you hate her. And tomorrow you'll declare how much you love her'. I won't. I hate her. And that's no problem because she hates me too. You see… Every afternoon, when I have to do my homework, she brings me cookies. She says she baked them with love and all, but I know it's a lie. The elves did the cookies. She doesn't know how to cook. Well, about the cookies, I noticed something: when I eat a cookie before doing my homework, I do twice as much. So, there is something in the cookies that says to my brain: 'Do homework'. But then I work so much that I don't have time to go out and play quidditch. I tell you: she hates me. I don't know what she puts in the cookies. Maybe a potion. My dad has a friend who's a potions master! He says when I'll be older, he'll teach me to brew incredible things! Potions really are the best! Dark Arts are great too, but they can't rival with potions. You won't repeat it to my dad, will you?"_

_The boy had recited his long speech and eaten cookies at the same time. He was amusing to listen to, not at all the kind of person Remus had imagined the Malfoy heir to be. A true child. Still unstained by Life. "No, don't worry. I will repeat nothing." And as Lucius Malfoy never approached him and would never if he could escape it, this promise wouldn't be hard to keep. _

_Draco smiled in thanks. "Because my dad wants me to be the strongest in Dark Arts when I go to Durmstrang. He says potions are second only. You like potions?"_

"_Not really," Lupin recognised._

"_Why is that?"_

"_I had a hateful teacher back when I was in school. He disgusted me."_

"_Oh…" The child contemplated what he was told. "You shouldn't mix a teacher with a class. My tutor is an old goose but the classes she teaches are great! I'd really like to have a little brother," he returned to his previous subject. "None of my friends want one. I wonder why. Dad doesn't care. He says he has one heir and doesn't need another. Still, I'd very much like to have a little brother… Maybe a little sister too… I'm not sure about that. Girls are dangerous: they hit you and you can't hit them back! You have to look at them and act as if it didn't hurt. It's horrible! You have children?"_

"_No, I don't."_

"_Will you have children?"_

"_I don't know, maybe."_

"_You will present them to me? So that I can play with them. I'll teach them magic and to ride a broom! I'm the best at quidditch!"_

_Remus chuckled. "I will."_

"_Promise?"_

"_Promise."_

"_Well, Remus, I have to go before I'm late for lunch and Dad gets angry. It was a pleasure meeting you. Bye!"_

_The boy exited the room, and Remus wondered how he could still be hungry for lunch, what with the atrocious number of cookies he had just eaten._

_End of flashback_

-

**Wednesday, September the 1st **

Remus went up the train's stairs. He was just in time for the departure. Immediately, he went in search of Harry. The poor boy had spent horrible holidays. Him too. At the end of the past school year, his best friend, Sirius Black, had died at the hands of his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. During a month, he had searched for all the ways to avenge him. But then, in August, as he was observing an altercation between Harry and Snape at Grimmauld Manor, he had thought again of his hatred.

He wondered: what had nurtured Severus into joining Voldemort? Why had he gone, and why had he come back? As the concerned one had refused to answer, he had finally gone to Dumbledore. The old man ought to know at least one of the two reasons. But the headmaster hadn't revealed the secret and had only asked in return: "Can you imagine Severus killing?"

Remus's personal reply was no. But then, there were many people he couldn't imagine killing. Most of them were students. Then he thought: why did Severus become a death-eater? Did he truly have a choice or had he been pushed by his parents? Sirius's parents had never forgiven him for getting in the Gryffindor house, and the proximity of his friends had saved the now dead man from following Voldemort. But Severus? He had death-eaters parents too. He had been in the Slytherin house, full of children with death-eater parents. Besides, no sooner had he arrived than he had become the scapegoat of James and Sirius. Of course, he got even with them, but still…

Then he tried to put himself in Snape's place.

'If I was a pureblood, educated in the way of the old families, if my parents were death-eaters, would I follow them? To kill is bad, whatever reason you give for… But if I thought muggles were inferior, if I had been told from the very beginning of my life than I was superior to others, how would I currently be seeing them? If Sirius hadn't been put in our house and hadn't met James as a friend, would he have been a true Black? He was cruel back in school, the way of a Slytherin, except that he was in Gryffindor… What if… What if these children only needed to find a friend as Sirius had? What if we had been wrong from the beginning? Many think we have to break the confidence and pride of the Slytherins in order to deviate them from their initial way. But what if it was the contrary? What if…'

He couldn't go on with his reflections as the noise of a skirmish caught his ears. He moved toward the racket. A group of students were observing a moving mass of green and red on the floor.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Weasley!" he shouted, "Control yourselves!"

Noticing the teacher, the two students stopped their fight and redressed. Their robes were in a pitiful state, and what to say about their faces… Noses bleeding, eyes that would soon turn black… If not for the professorial presence, they would continue till fainting, or worse… Remus sighed and speculated on what the young Malfoy could have insulted them of this time. Realising his automatic thought process, he caught himself in the act. Was that the good conduct to adopt? The good conduct to have? What had happened to his resolutions? He looked again at the children. From only their appearance, no conclusion could be deducted, one way or another.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Malfoy attacked me!" yelled Ron.

"Weasley attacked me!" yelled Malfoy.

Understanding he wouldn't have a good narrating of the affair by these two, he turned to the witnesses.

"Malfoy attacked us!" said Seamus Finnigan.

"You're mad?" sent back Parkinson, "Weasley launched at him!"

"Weasley mocked Malfoy, Malfoy mocked Weasley, they attacked," denounced a seventh year Ravenclaw.

Remus nodded. This version seemed nearer to the truth. But it was strange: usually, Malfoy began the remarks. Ron had surely wanted to make use of Lucius Malfoy's current residence being Azkaban…

"Ten points from both houses and two days of detention for each of you. I will give you the hours later."

"What!" shouted the Gryffindors. How could their favourite teacher take points from them?

"He insulted Sirius, professor," intervened Harry.

From the student's eyes, Remus could see it wasn't a lie, and his heart raged, but he had made a decision… "I won't change the punishment." And he quickly dispersed the young crowd.

Draco observed the professor with a pondering sight. The werewolf had punished Weasley, despite the suspicious altercation. Malfoy, being teased first, it was unheard of! Even when the teacher had been informed of his comment on Black, an old friend of the werewolf from what Draco had been told by Snape, he hadn't modified his behaviour…

Back in their compartment, Ron, Seamus and Dean fumed.

"How could he! Malfoy began the fight!"

"You're both responsible," remarked Hermione. "Remus did well. He can't tolerate conflicts when classes have not even begun."

Harry said nothing. He only remembered the comment Malfoy had made on Sirius. And he plotted on how he would take revenge.

-

The werewolf was severe; Draco would have to be careful. The Sorting Ceremony passed the usual way. At the end, he was called to the teachers' table for the dates of his detentions.

'Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Why not today while they're at it?' he grumbled in his breath.

"Already?" he heard Professor McGonagall comment, "Do you want me to handle them, Remus?"

"No, thank you. But may I borrow your metamorphosed items from some classes? It will be their job to turn them back."

"Of course. It will save me new year's work."

Draco understood what she meant on his first detention. To his surprise, he was alone with Professor Lupin in the class. "Where is Weasley?" he inquired.

"I gave you different days, to avoid more fights," explained Remus, smiling kindly as only he can do.

Draco frowned, wondering if it was the sole excuse the werewolf had found to redeem himself in front of the weasel. The werewolf had been a Gryffindor; it was the sort of thing that these mudblood-lovers would do. Well… Maybe Snape too… No, surely Snape. They were Slytherins after all, and Slytherins don't respect rules. He sat on a workbench and began his work. He recognised the second year's program. Teapots were half morphed into… whatever they had been trying to do… He sighed. It would be a long night.

Three hours later, he was finally finished, but for one he couldn't manage to turn back. He got up and presented his work to the teacher who was grading the holidays' homework.

"Fine, you may go. Have a good night."

Draco exited without a word.

-

**Monday, October the 4th **

A month later, the young Malfoy's reputation was worse than ever. Voldemort's reign of terror was back. The blood spree through England had started. Draco was uncontrollable, irascible, exasperating. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even half of the Slytherin house... The very mother of the boy wasn't spared the comments.

By the way, who was he meeting in the corridors? "Good morning, Mr Malfoy."

"Werewolf," the boy replied with scorn.

"Malfoy! You take that back!"

Ah, another day at Hogwarts… All the same. He saluted Draco, Draco taunted him, a Gryffindor attacked, both had detention.

"I wondered," Remus asked one evening in their usual detention classroom, "Where are your friends Crabbe and Goyle?"

The loneliness of Malfoy had stricken him. During his last year of teaching, he had got used to the young man flanked by his two goons. His fan club hadn't diminished but, to Remus, it appeared like they respected him less. His father had been caught. The dark lord would need to go and search for him in Azkaban.

"The weasel didn't tell you?" he said sarcastically, "They went to Durmstrang."

"Oh…" He nodded. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that? "You didn't go?"

Malfoy smirked. "So eager to be freed of me, werewolf?"

Inattentive to the name, Lupin smiled. "No, it was a simple question."

The Slytherin looked at the half mouse, half frog he was holding and shrugged. It was repulsive. He tried a spell on it, which failed. After four attempts, the full mouse was back. He lifted the head. Lupin was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. He dismissed it and caught another creature. He lifted the head again. Lupin was back to rating copies. In his hand, little legs were scratching his palm and drew some blood out. He winced and resisted the urge to crush the thing. He rendered it his true form and made it magically fly into the cage. The professor hadn't moved from his pile of papers.

"My mother didn't want me to."

He didn't know why he had answered. It had gone out… just like that. The wish to talk, to break the silence of the room. But Lupin didn't remark, he only smiled. "Too far away from home, isn't it?"

"Hum…"

Two days later, Draco passed the professor in a deserted corridor on his way to the potions classroom.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy."

For the first time since the beginning of the year, Draco turned back to the teacher. "Do you feel the need to be insulted?"

"Insulted?" repeated Remus. "No. What you say is only the truth. I am a werewolf."

"Yet you could give me detention for it," Draco retorted.

Lupin smiled. "I believe you have enough detentions as it is. But it is true one more wouldn't change much… Do you feel the need to be in detention, Mr Malfoy?"

They observed one another, and Draco departed quietly. The same day, Snape was found unconscious in his apartments. Voldemort had discovered him as a spy and tortured him. He had barely succeeded in escaping and was currently in a coma. The Slytherins cursed him. He was a traitor; he deserved to die.

Draco's behaviour worsened. Two months passed. They were in December.

**Wednesday, December the 8th **

"How do you do it, Remus? He's impossible in all his classes but yours!" One day Professor Sprout asked him.

"I make separate duos of Gryffindors and Slytherins," he kindly revealed.

"I tried that! He's no better with his roommates!" she insisted.

"I don't know then… But it's right that he isn't gentler with them in DADA either…"

"At least he listens to you!"

He laughed. "Let's say he doesn't interrupt me. But he sure isn't listening, for he already knows what I'm teaching." And that was right. In his first essay, he had noticed Draco, as well as Hermione, possessed the material to pass the year. But it was also true the boy didn't disrupt his class. He made to go when the Herbology teacher held him back.

"Hum… I gave him a detention… for tonight."

"I will do it, don't worry. I am used to it."

When he arrived to the classroom, he found the boy half asleep against the door. What with the numerous nights he spent in detention, it was no surprise.

"You should go and sleep," he counselled.

"I have detention." Ah… The voice lacked the usual contempt.

"I will act as if you came and did it."

Draco looked at him with suspicion. "You expect me to trust a Gryffindor?"

"No, but maybe a werewolf?"

Draco blinked. Was the man mad? "I have detention," he said despite the tempting proposition. He believed a Gryffindor would learn of it and use it against him. That was what happened every day. He was reported for things… How could they have learned of it? He had to be continually spied on… Compelling, Lupin opened the classroom's door and they entered. He sat on his usual workbench and began his usual job. McGonagall ought to love him for what he saved her from every day, but no, not even that…

"Mrs Sprout told me you didn't listen in her class," Lupin confided after a time.

"I don't in the others either," muttered Draco while searching how to morph back a fork into a piece of paper. What use was there in such stupid lessons? Who would ever use that!

"You should," Remus lectured.

Draco snorted. "What for? I already know everything we do."

"Maybe for respect for the teachers." It was by far the longest conversation they had had in their detention's sessions, despite Remus's trying to re-launch it numerous times.

"Yeah, right, the teachers…"

Lupin eyed the student in front of him, pondering on what was passing through that head of his. He wanted to ask about Lucius but decided against it. Draco was not ready for that yet.

"How do you find your new potions teacher?" he casually inquired. Severus had been replaced some days after he had come back injured. Poppy had confided that it would take time for him to awake, many months maybe. It had already been two since that day. Moreover, they couldn't send him to St Mungo's, for they would discover the dark mark that burned black on his arm.

"He's rubbish."

That was a surprise. He had heard not two days ago Hermione rejoicing in the severity of the professor and the difficulty and interest of the works he gave. Hermione no less! "Rubbish?" he repeated in awe.

Draco left his work in suspense and looked at him as if his question was stupid. "He knows not what he's talking about. He looks like Granger. A bookworm without instinct and real fieldwork." Pop. The parchment was back. "To use rat's intestines in a Stuporis potion," he went on muttering, "What kind of imbecile would do that?" Pop. Another parchment.

When Lupin observed the boy, he thought that maybe, his problem could be taken care of. The full moon was soon, and he had no Wolfsbane to prevent the dolour and madness. Severus had made only one flask in advance, which he had used, and he now was without resources to counter his transformation. He had already suffered a morphing without it and the excruciating agony had lasted for days after. Not that he could blame the man, in the state he was in… The important part was that this potion was an extremely difficult one: it had taken years for Snape to develop it to a satisfying stage and only he, a Potion Master, managed to successfully brew it.

"Mr Malfoy, do you like defies?"

Draco piled up a roll of parchment on top of the others, building a pyramid. "Why?"

"Would you be able to prepare a Wolfsbane potion?"

Draco smirked. "Difficult for you now that Snape isn't here anymore, isn't it, werewolf?"

"You have no idea…" And he felt so selfish for wishing Severus back to prepare him potions that it hurt him even more.

"Do you realised I can get you sacked with this information? Dumbledore managed to get you back on the probation that you used Wolfsbane…"

"No, Mr Malfoy. On the probation that I remain locked during the length of the transformation. Wolfsbane is only a way for me to master the wolf and to escape the pain. It never was developed enough to fully prevent a morphing," he recited.

Draco seemed to consider it and fidgeted with a fork. Pop. "Why don't you ask the mudblood?"

"Ms Granger, please," Remus corrected.

"She IS a mudblood. It doesn't bother you when I call you a werewolf."

"Because this is what I am. Werewolf is a state. Mudblood is an insult," Remus insisted.

"You didn't answer," recalled Draco. By the way the boy had avoided further discussion on the subject, Lupin was sure he had got his point, even if he wouldn't respect it outside this classroom they shared.

"I asked her and she tried…" He stopped the sentence there. Hermione would hate him for revealing that.

Draco frowned. "She failed?" When Remus nodded slightly, the boy smiled revengefully. "Then I accept! What will I gain in exchange?"

Remus was astonished at the little resistance Draco opposed to the idea of helping him, a werewolf. But he should have remembered the hatred Mr Malfoy felt for the Gryffindor trio outsmarted all the rest. About what the Slytherin could gain of it, that was another matter… "My eternal gratitude?" he proposed.

"As if I cared about it," mumbled Draco.

"Well… What would you ask for?" Remus opened the negotiation.

"Hum…" Pop. Draco put the parchment on his pile but, as he was sitting back, all papers rolled on the floor. "Ah! Shit!" He bent to pick them back.

"No vulgarities, please."

"Yes, yes…" When all parchments were back on the worktable, Draco observed his teacher. "I would ask for money, but what with the way you already dress, you would be forced to come naked in class. Not that I mind ridiculing a Gryffindor, but it would be indecent. I don't want to shock little Slytherins… So I'll ask for a permission!"

"A permission of what?" mistrusted Remus.

"If I succeed in preparing you Wolfsbane, I want the right to brew whatever I desire in the Potions class, with the exclusive access to Snape's private lab."

Really? He had feared a wish like only Slytherins could supply, such as 'Attack the Gryffindors', 'Retire from your post' or 'Let me fuck you'. What Draco had asked for was ridiculously easy to satisfy. Well, the part about the class… The other…"Fine, I will see the headmaster about it. You'll have my answer tomorrow."

"Good." Pop. "I'm finished here. Good night, werewolf."

Ah. That was a novelty too. Mr Malfoy had learned to say Good night.

-

The morning after, the pact was made, and Draco received the necessary ingredients and recipient. He couldn't keep himself from bragging about it when he passed by Hermione. She effectively wasn't happy. That didn't change Remus since the Gryffindors already looked at him with a dubious eye, due to the many detentions he had given to their house recently for their fights with Malfoy. They couldn't accept that they had deserved them…

Draco skipped four days of class, but the fifth, he very impolitely penetrated the headmaster's office…

"Werewolf! Your potion is ready!" he yelled while going up the fly of stairs.

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy," announced Dumbledore.

"Then I also want five points for the potion," declared Draco. He presented the precious vial to Lupin, who took it with care.

"Thank you…" he said with emotion. Between his hands, he had the rare liquid that would keep him from an almost death in some days.

"It's not for free," recalled Draco, taking him back to reality.

After hesitating, Dumbledore went to withdraw the lab's key from its place on the chimney. "How much did you prepare?" he asked to the boy he had very little confidence in.

Prudent, Draco took and hid the key into his robes before answering. "A full batch, but it can't be used for more than two months. Snape let some notes about it that I'd like to test. Werewolf, call me when you'll transform, I need to observe the way it works." Then he receded toward the door.

"But the full moon will be during the Yule Holidays," notified Lupin.

"I said I had experiments to do!" shouted Draco in the stairs.

"You should try to put some respect in him," pointed out Dumbledore, who had refrained from taking five more points off Slytherin. 'This one will have to be looked upon…'

But Remus was too happy to hear him.

Draco missed the remaining days of class and the ball then the holidays began. Four days after, it was the full moon. True to his promise, Lupin sent a word to Draco, reminding him of what was to take place in the evening. He had long hesitated on this. How was he to act? Usually, he went to the shrieking Shack, drank his potion, undressed and morphed. He couldn't undress in front of a student! Finally in his cell, soon joined by Malfoy, he removed only his shirt, for it would have strangled the wolf. Then the moon appeared and all became dark.

-

**Friday, December the 24th **

The morning after, he awoke in the Infirmary. Harry was sitting in a chair, looking at him. He shivered under the scrutiny.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked hesitantly, not sure of the reason of the young one's presence. James's son had stayed at the castle over the Holidays, along with his usual friends.

"I wanted to verify Malfoy hadn't poisoned you."

Remus smiled. "It doesn't seem like it." Strangely, he felt fine despite his just finished transformation, and he thanked Merlin for Snape's intelligence and Malfoy's competence.

"I…" began Harry, "I hate Malfoy for all he says on Sirius, but… I now understand why you need him and treat him like you do, so…"

"How do I treat him, Harry?" Remus inquired, frowned.

The Gryffindor's eyes rounded. "What? How do you treat him? But you favour him! When we defend you against him, you give us detentions, when…"

"Harry," cut Remus, smiling, "Did I ask for protection?"

"No but…"

"Then I don't need protection. I'm happy that you consider me kind enough to want to protect me, but I trust I am old enough to defend myself against Mr Malfoy." He laughed lightly at the idea. Since the beginning of the year he had lured the young Slytherin into talking to him, if not trusting or befriending. He wouldn't destroy his long work. Not if that could save someone from the dark side…

"Fine. We won't react to his calling you names again then." Harry got up and went to the door. "I believe that under his spoiled child airs, Malfoy can be very dangerous. And he has a power over you with this potion. Just be careful, professor. I don't want to see you harmed."

The day passed, and Remus could quit the Infirmary. It was Christmas. All remaining students and teachers joined around a long table.

"Good evening, Mr Malfoy," saluted Remus while sitting next to the Slytherin.

"Good evening, werewolf."

"Five points from Slytherin," announced Professor McGonagall. The woman wondered why she bothered: four months of points off and detentions hadn't stopped the boy. Then she went back to her conversation with Dumbledore. The headmaster had to make a visit to Fudge in a week about the dark lord matter. Draco looked at them, his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Malfoy!" called Hermione, "I have a question for you: do you remember the professor's name?"

Every head rose. Nobody had thought of that. Could it be that Malfoy simply had forgotten his teacher's name and didn't want to appear stupid by asking it of someone else? On the inverse, Draco fumed: of course he remembered his name, but in this case, he had only two choices. First, lie and say he didn't. Second, say yes and he would be requested to pronounce it, with the owner there. Some seconds passed and he smirked. He had found a third…

"Do you know the secrets of the Wolfsbane, Granger?" he asked back.

"This isn't my question, Malfoy."

"I know, wait a little. One of these secrets is that the potion has to be personalised. But Snape had already prepared it for the werewolf. Means he has a complete fiche on him. So, I not only know his full name but also birth-date, sign, medical records, etc…"

"Hum… One would think that such knowledge would have made you more respectful…" she muttered.

And the conversation ended there.

**Saturday, January the 8th **

Two weeks later, Snape awoke. When hearing about it, Draco asked to see his former professor. It was a Saturday. After much hesitation, and with Severus' will, Dumbledore accepted. The Potions master wanted to see himself what had changed his student to the point of accepting to work for Lupin. From his view, the use of his lab wasn't enough to warrant such an opposition to his pureblood's ideas.

"How do you feel professor?" inquired Draco, no sentiment passing through his voice.

"Well enough," he answered evasively. The young Malfoy looked tired. In his eyes, there was… a tinge… of an indefinite emotion. Something very out of place on a Malfoy.

"I hope you don't mind my using of your lab?"

It was evident the conversation wouldn't lead anywhere. It was a trick, a plot to hide something bigger, which was the reason Draco had come and seen him, the traitor. "I mind, but it won't change the fact. Lupin told me you were preparing him Wolfsbane. Why?" He needed immediate answers. A secret in the hands of a Slytherin was dangerous. Especially when said Slytherin was the son of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well… First, I wanted to beat Granger at something. Then I thought it could be endearing."

Snape frowned. He knew it was a lie, and the boy knew he knew. But he wouldn't dig anything else out of the child. Sooner than he thought, Draco was out and Severus called for the headmaster and Lupin.

"He's up to something. It shows in his eyes."

"That is what I supposed when he asked for your lab, Severus. But as long as he doesn't attempt something…" confirmed Dumbledore.

"He went to Hogsmeade last weekend. He said he needed ingredients for the potion," recalled Remus.

"That's impossible. I had everything for a full year," contradicted Severus. All three men stared at each other. That was something to be investigated.

"I'll ask him about it. He still has some detentions to serve."

"Hum…" pondered Dumbledore, "For my part, I have to return to the Ministry. Fudge is incapable of maintaining the order outside."

When classes began again, Draco effectively joined the usual professor in the usual classroom to do his usual work. But he remained silent; he did what was required of him then left the room. Remus couldn't learn anything. Snape decided to take the matter into his own hands. Draco hadn't presented any particular desire to kill him. That was strange: if he were to reappear in Slytherins' presence, no doubt they would attempt something. But not Malfoy… He had come to see him, had been alone with him, but had done no harm. Of course he would have been arrested but Voldemort's minions were ready to do more for their master… Besides, the boy now attended all his classes and behaved, taking care not to receive many detentions. He still was denounced for being into the lab late into the night, when he should have been in bed. That was another mystery, but Snape was almost certain the Gryffindors were behind it. They still had this exasperating Map of them…

**Thursday, January the 13th **

When he came into the lab, Draco was bent over a cauldron, pouring carefully what he recognised for essence of hyssop, from the form of the vial.

"Good evening, professor," saluted the young one.

"Good evening, Mr Malfoy." He glanced at the concoction. "Wolfsbane," he deducted by the sight.

"Yes, I'm trying to counter the transformation."

"You have faith…" He had tried for years and never obtained a satisfying result.

"Oh, I don't expect to succeed. I simply test till you take back your lab." Being better, Snape would soon make his return as a teacher and potion maker. The werewolf wouldn't need him anymore.

"Did you put dittany roots in there?" Snape exclaimed suddenly as his nostrils caught the particular odour.

"Yes. I…" Draco hesitated and looked at the floor. "I passed upon it yesterday and just… felt like adding it. I don't know why, I just saw it and flashed… It felt like something you would do…"

Snape eyed his student with care. Was he wrong? No… It was fear there was in his eyes… Why did Draco fear him? Because of the potion? It was true that it could be dangerous, still, as a Potion Master he had always favoured instinct over thinking… But it couldn't be that, there was something else. Maybe if he tried compliments? "It is. It may be a good idea…" Draco abruptly raised his head in awe and Snape wondered how much time it was that Draco hadn't been complimented. As quickly, the boy turned it again.

"Well. I'm finished. I should go and sleep… We have Charms exam tomorrow," he added. Obviously a lie. He tidied the lab and departed.

When he passed upon Flitwick, Snape didn't miss the opportunity to ask him about the exam. There was none. What was the boy preparing? Forging ahead, Draco worked hard in all his classes and escaped detentions for weeks. He was a model student. Snape had taken back his post. February came and the young one's mood didn't improve. He acted and looked as if he was tracked. Severus complained to the headmaster about the attitude of the Gryffindors. There was no proof, but he didn't care. He knew it was them, and he couldn't let them terrify one of his student! Dumbledore convinced the trio. They reluctantly accepted to stop, under the certainty that Malfoy wouldn't insult them again. Snape remarked he hadn't for a month. He even avoided Lupin. Noticing what they had missed, they accepted.

What with his good behaviour and results, Malfoy was allowed to go to Hogsmeade for the first time this year. His eyes lightened and Professor McGonagall wondered if she hadn't been too harsh on the boy. Maybe he could be a good brat…

**Monday, February the 28th **

Three weeks later, the edition of the Daily Prophet passed in all hands: Lucius Malfoy had died in his cell. He had been ill for weeks and had finally deceased of the malady. The transfiguration teacher dreaded the moment she would have to announce it to Draco. The boy had been nice for weeks, attentive like he had never been before. This new Draco Malfoy didn't deserve this. She pushed far in her mind that the past Draco hadn't deserved it either, that nobody did. All she could see was the kind boy, lost among his own peers, that had become of the worst Slytherin of his time.

"I'm sorry," she only said while handing him a newspaper, aside from the other children. Too many would already take advantage of this fate to torment him. But Draco didn't seem to realise at first the situation. He read the paper, as if he couldn't understand. Then he looked at her and smiled faintly. "I will go to my dormitory, if you agree."

Of course she agreed. Draco would miss her class, but she didn't care for that. All she had seen was the unshed tears in the young eyes. No, he didn't deserve that. Why hadn't Severus informed the boy in her place? But she also knew why she had accepted the duty: Snape hadn't been fond of Lucius Malfoy since the coming back of the dark lord. How would he announce his death?

Draco received proper ministerial papers the day after. The family was handed the body over. He had to go back to his house for the burial. He refused to. That made much racket in his family and the press. Narcissa Malfoy came in person to Hogwarts to retrieve her disobedient son. His opinion remained unchanged. He refused to attend the funeral. Nothing could make him move. Some days after, the staff discussed about how right he had been: aurors had been present at the funeral, fearing an attack of the dark lord to resuscitate his faithful follower. The family hadn't been let in peace for the whole day.

While his behaviour remained perfect, his health was deteriorating. He was a shadow. Even Gryffindors couldn't find the desire to taunt him anymore. Students began fearing him. What if he was ill? What if it was contagious? Severus tried to talk to him, without result. The boy didn't eat during meals, he didn't sleep during night. What reassured him slightly was that Draco was reported to go to the kitchen at night. Dumbledore was worried for the boy.

**Wednesday, March the 16th **

When Draco fainted in class, Dumbledore visited him in the Infirmary.

"I'm well, professor," answered the young man, "I just can't manage to sleep, that's all."

The headmaster was doubtful. As Severus, he had noticed it could only be something else. The boy kept a secret that was eating him. Madame Pomfrey declared him unable to take part in the upcoming quidditch match against Gryffindor: he was currently too fragile and weak. He didn't care. That alerted Snape like nothing.

"Hear me out boy!" the teacher almost shouted, "I know there is something! So you will tell me what! Or I get you send to Saint Mungo's!"

"No!" cried Draco, "You can't do that…"

"I can very well," insisted Snape.

"I… I'll get better. Just don't send me to St Mungo's…"

Severus accepted the bait. But if Draco wasn't in a better shape in a week, he would use Veritaserum by force. And he was always true to his word.

Seven days later, Draco Malfoy was back. The transformation was fascinating. Except they couldn't believe it. Even a full week of sleep couldn't have allowed such a quick recovery, and the boy had gone to his classes as usual, done his homework…

**Thursday, April the 7th **

A cold morning of April, as Remus came back from the Shrieking Shack after his transformation, he passed Draco in the corridor.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy."

"Morning, werewolf."

Remus smiled. One time, when the boy had been ill, Draco had addressed him by his name. It had been disturbing, even if pleasant.

"What are you doing in the corridors so early in the morning?" he inquired kindly.

"Walking. I needed some air." The boy seemed well at first sight, but his eyes betrayed his tiredness. If his body was rested, his mind surely was not. The shift between them was unusual, worrying and out of place. Could this fit appearance be false?

"You seem tired. I thought Severus was giving you sleeping potions."

"He does."

"Why don't you take them, then?"

"I do."

"It doesn't appear like so to me…" His tone showed clearly he didn't buy the 'Look at me! I'm perfectly well!' behaviour. "Draco." For the first time did he call the boy by his name. "What is keeping you from sleeping?"

"I…" The student's smell was of fear, a terror that ran deep. "I can't sleep. They'll attack me." Realising what he had said, Draco flinched and his dread increased. "I have to go."

Not losing time, Remus went to the headmaster.

"Who would want to attack him, Albus?"

"Many people, actually. From the students he harassed to Lucius' old enemies."

"Or simply the Slytherins," added Severus while penetrating the office. "We don't have contact anymore inside Voldemort's group."

"But why would the dark lord want to kill his ex-first follower's son?" asked Remus.

"That, I have no idea…"

Dumbledore decided to talk to the boy. "Lemon drop?" he proposed.

"No, thank you," politely refused the Slytherin.

"Mr Malfoy, I won't try to lead you in circles. You already don't like me much, and I wouldn't want to increase this distaste." Draco didn't contradicted.

"I was told of tensions in Voldemort's ranks," went on the headmaster, "and would like to make sure you're well."

"Why do you care?" Draco inquired with suspicion.

"Because you're my student."

Draco sighed and looked at the floor. "You weren't truly told anything, were you? If you had, you would know. The werewolf told you…"

Dumbledore refrained from taking points, because there was no contempt in the name, not even the slightest repulsive impression. To the young Malfoy, the noun had become a name to call his teacher by, no more and no less.

"I admit." He smiled. Maybe the boy had some good in him, if he could consider a werewolf as a human being. "Professor Lupin came to me. He's worried about you."

"I knew he would spill it out. One can't trust a Gryffindor." Again, there was no hatred. It was a simple observation.

"Professor Lupin only has your best interests in mind. We want to help you, Draco. What do you fear?"

The boy looked at him and Dumbledore froze. What had Draco done to warrant such expression? Cornered, that was the impression he emitted.

"Something you can't save me from…"

"I can help you to escape Voldemort,"

"How do you know it's the dark lord?" Draco murmured, "Maybe it's something else. Maybe it's both."

That was it. Cornered.

"Tell me who is after you Draco. We will find a way."

"I can't." These two words were definitive. For the moment…

"If you change your mind, we are here to help you," concluded Dumbledore.

-

**Friday, April the 15th **

"Moony, you're fine?" asked Harry after a tiring DADA class.

"Yes, only a little tired. Don't worry." It was him that was constantly worried over Draco.

"You're sure Malfoy isn't bothering you again?" the Gryffindor insisted.

"Perfectly sure… Harry," he hushed his voice, "Could you, by any chance, have seen if he goes somewhere at night?"

"Hum… Well… You see…" Harry stammered and looked around to check that no one was listening. "I thought you wouldn't like it, but since you asked: we have been spying on him. Oh! We didn't denounce him again or anything!"

Remus eyed the Gryffindor suspiciously.

"Well… The truth is we couldn't… He does nothing bad. We placed a spell on the Map, to awake us if he goes out of the Slytherin dungeon, but no, never. He only leaves the snake's wing for meals and classes."

Lupin tilted. "What did you just say?"

"That he was never out, why?"

"And yesterday morning?"

"The same. Out at seven and three quarters for breakfast."

"Thank you Harry!"

"Why? There's something?"

"I'm not sure. I need to talk to Albus."

-

"You say he was in two places at the same time?" repeated the headmaster.

"I appears so, yes. Albus, could he have found a Time-turner?"

"I don't think so, I would have felt its magic. Severus!" he called, "Did you discovered whatever he had been preparing in Potions?"

"No, he made sure to erase all hints. I have a list of some ingredients that his fellows saw him use, but that leads nowhere."

The night, the three men, helped by the Gryffindor trio, 'who couldn't keep their noses out of affairs that didn't concerned them', were sitting in Dumbledore's office around the Map. All eyes were fixed on the 'Draco Malfoy' spot, in a Slytherin dormitory. Snape muttered at the pointlessness of this method. More tea was consumed. Suddenly, around midnight, it moved and they stirred in their chairs. The plot went down to the common room, stationed a moment in front of the fireplace and split in two! There were two of 'Draco Malfoy' on the Map! One went up back to the dormitory, while the other went out to the kitchens. It remained there a moment before walking the inverse way and disappearing through a wall.

"What is that?" asked Ron, "There was one, then two, then one…"

"Why didn't the spell wake you?" also asked Remus.

"An error we made," reasoned Hermione, "The castle was too large to cover with a detection charm, so we spelled the Map to detect when he wasn't in the dungeon anymore. But he is never out. We put too much faith in our spell and didn't look at the Map closely enough to observe this little time when he divided."

"Where did the second plot disappear?" inquired Snape eagerly. At length, they had a lead.

"Useless, hum?" grumbled Harry, unheard by the potion's professor.

"Maybe a room we didn't know of," explained Remus, "There are many uncovered secret places in Hogwarts."

They went on with the spying. At five in the morning, the sleeping plot got up, made a turn in the common room, recuperated the reappeared second wandering plot and as suddenly, they were back as one.

"Remus," beckoned Dumbledore, "Tomorrow, you will make sure that Mr Malfoy is occupied elsewhere."

"Why?" asked Snape.

"This room is Salazar's experiment chamber. It was closed some centuries ago by the headmaster of the time."

All gaped at the revelation. How did Dumbledore know that? More, how did Draco discover it? Moony refused to obey the order he had been given by the headmaster: "I want to go with you if you enter it," he said. What was hidden in the room? What was so precious in there that Draco would protect it with his life? Was it the reason why unknown people, probably the Slytherins, wished to see him dead? What could Draco have done to provoke Voldemort's wrath?

"We can take care of Malfoy," announced Harry, "This way, you may accompany them."

Remus thanked the trio with a nod. It was an absurd desire that wanting to enter the secret room, but he felt it was important. As if something bad would result from the excursion if he wasn't present. Maybe was he selfish, but he had never neglected his instinct. He wouldn't this time either.

Preparations were made for the upcoming dawn.

**Saturday, April the 16th **

Harry, Ron and Hermione went back to their dorms to shower and change clothes then met in the Gryffindor's common room. They had come up with a simple plan. Coming down the stairs, they arrived in the Great Hall just in time: Malfoy was turning up by another enter. Ron immediately accosted him with an angered face.

"What did you do to my sister!" he shouted, approaching dangerously near the Slytherin.

Draco was surprised by the verbal attack and frowned. "I did nothing. Go bugger someone else, weasel."

Ron caught him by the robe's collar and made to lift him, but Malfoy liberated himself by a sudden move of the arm. "Don't touch me! I said I did nothing."

"But SHE said you had made passes at her! I don't want you near my sister again, clear enough!"

The Slytherin eyed the red-haired young man suspiciously, inattentive to the menace, then his two friends. He screwed up his eyes with mistrust. What were they doing here, in the middle of the Great Hall, bothering him? He hadn't gone near the weaselette for months. Why did she feel the need to lie now? He turned to the teachers' table, but Snape wasn't here: the professor wouldn't intervene. Then Draco frowned. Dumbledore and the werewolf weren't present either. It was highly unusual. Had something bad occurred? No, for the Gryffindork golden trio would currently be busied elsewhere, that's to say at the source of the problem. By the way… That's exactly what they were doing: busying him! When he had planned to quickly relieve the table from some pancakes and to go back to his medical potions' experiments! That was strange… Maybe it was simply a coincidence. After all, he had spent his last months testing. Still… The Gryffindor's attitude was odd. They seemed eager to make him react to the accusation, to begin a fight. Another year, Draco would have been more than willing to give in to his fists' itching, but in the period he traversed, he couldn't afford to have detentions. Each minute he didn't spend in front of his cauldron could be revealed as crucial. The weasel was getting angrier by his nemesis's lack of attention.

"Hey! Malfoy! Your mother didn't teach you manners!"

"No." Draco took to his heels and ran toward the Slytherin dungeon. He would be looked upon as a chicken but his reputation was already tarnished enough that he didn't care about one more blow to it. He had a bad feeling, one that said someone he cared deeply for was in immediate danger. Behind him, he heard the trio scream at him, before starting on the course. Draco accidentally knocked over some students whose laying bodies obstructed his pursuers' running. Finally, he arrived panting at the Slytherin painting, the Gryffindors still dogging on his footsteps, murmured the password and yelled to it to close quickly. Hopefully, it didn't appreciate its opponent house and complied. Draco didn't stop his course there and ran toward the secret passage. The Slytherins were eating breakfast: none was there to see him. Besides, if what he dreaded was justified, they wouldn't be a problem for much longer…

-

Dumbledore, Snape and Lupin entered the Slytherin common room as soon as all students had gone out. They headed toward the wall they had seen Draco use on the Map, and the headmaster pressed some bricks of the wall with his hand, then pronounced words the two professors didn't understand. The wall split to let them pass. They discovered a darkened corridor that connected to a lightened room. Not hesitating, they advanced in it and Dumbledore closed the secret door behind them. This way, if a student came back sooner, they wouldn't be disrupted. Their heart beating quickly at the thought of what they would find in there, they traversed the shadowed space. The room was illuminated by the sunlight that poured through two noble windows. On one side was a cauldron filled with a substance Severus couldn't identify, and many ingredients were scattered on the floor and shelves. On the other side, a well-furnished bookcase. Then they heard a whimper. Frowning, they skirted round the library and froze on place. How was this possible? Was that what Draco had been hiding? How did he manage such a trick? There, laying on a bed, shivering with fever, was…

"Lucius Malfoy…" murmured Snape.

"How can he be alive? We saw his corpse at the burial!" contradicted Remus.

"Draco's dividing," explained Dumbledore, "He did the same with his father."

"Expelliarmus!" cried a voice in their back. Their wands shot from their pockets and tinted on the floor when falling. "Don't move! I said don't move!" shouted the voice again when Snape made to turn. Draco passed them and laid his hand on his father's forehead, not letting them out of his sight. His eyes were only fear, terror for what would befall on him and the man he venerated. He accioed his broom and, his wand still pointed at the three men, he mounted it, his father in his arms.

"Draco," said Dumbledore, "Where will you go when you get out?"

"What do you think?" The Slytherin asked. "To the dark lord, of course!"

"He'll kill you!" shouted Severus. Lucius Malfoy was alive, when they all had thought he was dead. Surely the death-eaters hadn't been more acknowledged than the light side had been. The dark lord ought to be angry at the boy's attitude. Especially if Draco had been keeping his father hidden. Voldemort may have asked for his follower back.

"But I HAVE to chose a side! And you sent my father to Azkaban!" Draco's hands trembled as he approached the window, his broom floating above the floor. He was hesitating.

"Voldemort let him rot in there!" Remus intervened. "Draco, please, don't go, you'll get killed, both of you. It isn't what you want, is it?" The professor was slowly advancing toward the boy, soothing the snake with his gentle tone. The child wanted to trust them, it showed in his acts. He would have been long gone if not. The only thing they had to do was to calm him enough to make him see reason. In his state, the only solution they had was to show him they could be trusted, that they would help him. "We'll find a way for your father. Just don't go. You can't run to your death. I have no children yet."

"Wha… What are you saying?"

"Remember me. We met long ago. Remus, as in the story with the wolf but I have no twin."

"Yes, I… I remember…" Draco's tears fell on his father he was still holding. "You have no children…"

"No, I haven't. That's why you can't die. Who would teach them quidditch then?"

"Ah…" The Slytherin clutched his father tighter. "If… If I stay, he won't go back to prison?"

"No, he…"

"Expelliarmus!" shouted another voice.

Lupin turned to the new comer then back to Draco in a dash. "No!" Frightened, the boy had jumped in the air. Remus and Severus ran to the window and saw Draco disappearing in the forest. The Slytherin's wand clattered on the floor, some feet away from them. Remus shivered in anger and fear for the boy. He looked at the intruders.

"You… You imbecile!" shouted Moony at Ron.

"Lupin!" called Snape, "If Draco goes to Voldemort, we must arrive before him! Don't lose time!"

Both men exited without further discussion.

-

When Malfoy had disappeared in the Slytherin dungeon and the painting close on their noses, they had accioed the Map and searched for another entrance. They hadn't needed much time to discover it, and had run toward the stairs, escalated a floor and penetrated another painting. There, they had traversed a corridor full of horrible and monstrous spiders.

"I won't go!" Ron had shrieked. "I refuse!"

"They're minuscule," Hermione had shouted back. "Hurry!"

Then they had taken another flight of stairs, gone down a floor and opened another door, arriving in the Slytherin common room. The secret passage had already been opened and they had arrived to the scene described above.

"Professor..." Ron tempted discreetly.

"Yes, Mr Weasley?" asked Dumbledore.

"Will they be well?"

"Remorse, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore went on with the questions, unaware of the one he was asked, and a little smile played on his lips.

Ron reddened. Behind him, Harry and Hermione weren't less uptight or sheepish. "I don't like Malfoy and Snape, but not to the point of wishing their deaths. And I don't want Moony hurt."

"Don't worry," reassured the headmaster, "They will be back by tomorrow, after noting Mr Malfoy didn't go to the Riddle Manor. They tend to underestimate him. He's too intelligent to run to Voldemort."

"Won't they kill each other?" inquired Hermione, talking about the two professors. It was a known fact that Snape hated Lupin, for what had happened when they both still were students.

"No… They work well together under pressure." Dumbledore went to retrieve the four shattered wands on the floor. "Ah... In their hurry, they forgot their wands." He smiled. Two of the wooden rods disappeared from the old man's hand. "Really... Children..."

"Professor," questioned Hermione, "Isn't Lucius Malfoy dead?"

"You saw him, didn't you?" A twinkle shone in his eyes. They nodded. "I'd appreciate if this information could rest between us." They nodded again. "I don't know how the boy managed that, but it's impressive... I'd love to see Fudge's face... But I believe you have homework to do. A potions essay, if I am not mistaken. Severus won't be in a good mood next week, you should work hard on it."

They didn't comment that, with Snape, they would have a bad mark whatever the amount of work they put in the essay. Then they left as asked. During the time they had been in, some Slytherins had entered back the dungeon, attracted by the noise. They were grouped in front of the secret passage entrance and looked at the professors then the Gryffindors and headmaster who emerged. Their faces screamed their fury at the invasion. The three red-housed ones thanked Merlin for the presence of Dumbledore. Without the old wizard at their side, they would have been stoned to death.

"Good morning, Mr Olivander," saluted Dumbledore through the fireplace when alone in his office. "I hope I didn't awake you?"

"No, not at all. I was currently putting the finishing touches to a wand. Willow wood, snake nerve. Perfect for a strong but open-minded spirit. What may I do for you?"

"Mr Malfoy lost his wand and may come to you for a new one. Can you give him his back then? I just sent it to you by owl."

"No problem, no problem indeed."

The discussion didn't go further. Olivander was an intelligent man. It was more than probable that he had understood the insinuations in Dumbledore's sentences: Draco had fled from Hogwarts but wasn't to be harmed or arrested.

**Sunday, April the 17th **

As the headmaster had foreseen, his two professors were back by twenty-four hours.

"Why didn't you stop him from going!" raged Severus at Dumbledore. The old man was nothing but impotent. He was considered, and for good reasons, the most powerful wizard of their time. Having no wand in his hand had never been a problem for him to practice magic. Why hadn't he done it this time? Why had he refused to save the boy from what would await him outside?

"The boy went to Voldemort?" asked the old man while smiling, already knowing the answer to his own question.

"Not yesterday, but he ought to be hiding the time that his father recover. Then he will go!"

His two children, Severus and Remus, were looking at him with reproach. He was the most powerful wizard of their time! Why hadn't he stopped the boy? Even without his wand, he could have…

"A month ago, Remus, you told me word for word: 'How do you expect him to trust you if you don't at least have a little faith in him?'" Dumbledore smiled at their doubtful faces. "Just now, he won't go to Voldemort because he fears for his father's health. And when Lucius will be well again, it is him who will stop his son from joining his former master, for he knows what fate would await him. You should worry more about the Ministry. When the news of Draco's disappearance is out, a fact that we won't be able to hide much longer, the aurors will think that he joined the dark ranks and search Malfoy Manor for him. If he hides there and is found, it could get dangerous. Especially if they discover Lucius."

"He isn't at the Manor," affirmed Moony, "He hates his mother."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Hum… Of course he does, what with everything he said about her. Let him do as he wishes. He'll come back should he need help."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not. I have faith."

-

End of the first chapter.

Well… What do you think of it ? Please review.


	2. Chapter 2 : In the depths of Malfoy Mano...

**Synopsis :** When Remus Lupin decides to take part in a Malfoy's redemption, he simply finds more than he expected. What secret is Draco hiding? What is he afraid of? How much did they all underestimated the boy's intelligence? Remus/Draco, Severus/Draco 

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**Author's note:** I'm really sorry about the delay, but my beta and I had so much work that I couldn't update till now. Hope you'll still find it worth your wait. Thanks to those who reviewed, I love you! 

o-

**Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 2 : In the depths of Malfoy Manor**

**Tuesday, May the 10th **

One full month had fled by since Draco's disappearance in the forest. Some hours after Dumbledore called Olivander, the headmaster received a call stating the boy had got back his wand. But after that, it had been deathly silence.

On the contrary, newspaper used well the little pieces of information they were provided. Not a year after the Malfoy senior getting sent to Azkaban for being a death-eater, his son joined the dark lord! Of course there was no proof. But the times of war were enough to make some rumours become reality. That sufficed to feed an article and the stupid brains that read such non-sense. This was the sort of speech that Snape theatrically made with each new publication. That's to say, everyday. And everyday he worked off his irritation on the Gryffindors. They were responsible for this situation; they had to pay.

As good little heroes of their house, they had proposed their help. 'To do what?' Snape had angrily yelled at them, 'To run to Voldemort and get killed? To yell at the Slytherins and death-eaters that the Order has no idea where Draco and his father could be?' Severus was certain they would attempt something nonetheless. The gene of stupidity had to run in the Potter family! The boy was supposed to be their saviour against the darkness! Things didn't look good for the world…

And the Weasley and mudblood helped nothing! How this girl could be first of all her classes, Snape was astonished at. Ah… MOST of her classes. Never would she be first in Potions! He wouldn't accept it! Such a bookworm! She recited pages and pages of recipes' books without the lesser notion of what they truly meant! The concept of Potions was totally unknown to her. If one day she discovered she was an animagus and morphed into one of her little cherished books, Severus wouldn't be surprised.

No wonder the three of them hadn't managed to keep Draco at bay of his secret room for more than two minutes. The Slytherin ought to have suspected the trap. And no more wonder that they had entered the room exactly at the most inopportune moment, at the exact time when they were changing Draco's mind to run away, when he considered staying. The Gryffindors would be the death of him, Severus thought bitterly.

From the Slytherins, nothing. Either they wanted to keep what they knew a secret, or they truly knew nothing. That was Snape's opinion. Draco hadn't gone to Voldemort and hadn't been found yet. But it was only a matter of time.

"You plan on staying as long as yesterday?" Severus asked raggedly.

Lupin had got used to coming and staying in Snape's apartments in the evening. In this place, he could stare at the potions master brewing what made his speciality and this sole activity occupied his mind. The silence was companionable, despite the fake disgust Snape showed for their meetings. Remus could think of Draco in peace, of where could be the boy, if he was well. He feared for the child. And he wondered: how had Draco managed? Remus had always been impressed by the feats of Harry, Ron and Hermione but what Draco had succeeded at alone! Remus was left agape. Draco had searched for his father in Azkaban, put a false body in his place, kept him hidden in Hogwarts, under their noses, and they had seen nothing! Had it not been for a coincidence, they would never have discovered it! It was impressive; there was no other word.

Remus recalled again the look the boy had sent him in Salazar's experiment room. He had wanted to be saved then, had looked at the werewolf for help. How much Remus regretted his failing… If only he could go back in time.

Snape violently crushed some herbs and Lupin comprehended he wasn't sole with this self-reproaching thought. But he couldn't go on with them as an owl perched on the small and unique fanlight of the lab. Severus growled at the distraction. Not that he was concentrating much, added Remus to himself, more like he didn't want news from the outer world.

Snape went to the disrupter and furiously caught the package it bore. Immediately the man frowned and Remus tilted.

"What is it?" inquired Lupin.

"A vial," answered Severus as he opened the letter that accompanied it. He glanced at it and blanched. Suspicious, Remus got up and looked at the parchment over the potions master's shoulder. In a quick move, Snape gave it to him and went to the door, opened it slightly and listened to the corridors before closing back the door. Then he looked at the werewolf, hesitating, the vial still firmly clutched in his hand. Lupin took the time to read the message. He froze.

It contained two sentences, which had apparently been written in haste. 'Aurors are coming for you. Pour it on your mark.'

So short and yet so full of sense. Someone had denounced Snape and officials were coming to arrest him. The dark mark burnt deep black on the man's arm, showing the hatred Voldemort had for his former servant. In no way could they miss it. Yet… What if it was a trap? The aurors were still to arrive, for Moony heard no racket from the silent outside corridors. The vial could very well contain a poison that would kill Snape: as soon as the content touched his skin, it could exult a mortal reaction. That wouldn't be an unprecedented case.

In front of him Severus was still hesitating. He looked alternatively at the paper and the vial, obviously pondering on what to do. "Albus," he finally decided and announced.

Both ran to the headmaster's office. If aurors were truly coming, they couldn't afford to lose time. They entered it and weren't surprised to discover the man waiting for them. Snape and Lupin panted from the exhaustion at the numerous stairs they had traversed and Severus showed him the parchment. Dumbledore read it quickly and eyed the two professors, his eyebrow frowned by concern.

"It's Draco's writing," said Snape to Remus's amazement. Truly? He hadn't recognised it; he had never paid much attention to the writing of people…

"Or an imitation," corrected Dumbledore.

At that moment, a house-elf appeared in the office, and automatically covered in fear at Snape's presence. The man hadn't spared the creatures any more than he had the humans from his bad mood. They had learnt to protect themselves from the dangerous potions master.

"Professor," the elf addressed Dumbledore, "aurors just entered the school… Histy wanted to tell because the aurors seem angry," it added quickly in justification, never letting Snape out of its sight. This particular elf had suffered at Snape's hands from a fly of vials filled with different potions. It had apparated out of the lab covered in various substances that stank horribly and created blue spots on its body.

The headmaster reacted quickly and shoved them in a secluded room, whose door had appeared in a wall. One more secret place of Hogwarts that had remained unknown to them till now. How many of them were there left? And how had Draco discovered Salazar's experiment room?

The chamber they were in was completely dark, and Remus used his wand and a Lumos spell to light it. It was an enormous and empty cupboard. They heard nothing of what was going on outside. Then he noticed Snape's distraught. He laid his hand on the man's arm. "Maybe they came for something else?" he tempted.

"Are you stupid!" spat Snape. "That would be too much of a coincidence!"

Remus didn't know what to answer. He had only wanted to reassure the Slytherin, but deep down, he also was aware of the fact that the aurors were truly coming for him. Snape clutched the vial in a tight grip.

"Severus, it could kill you…" reminded Remus.

It was rare that he called his colleague by his first name: Snape hated it and generally responded violently or scornfully. But this time there was no retaliation. The potions master's eyes were fixed on the liquid in the vial. In a move, he lifted his left sleeve and brought the dark mark to light. Remus winced at the sight. The skin was burnt all around it in a dark red pole. He didn't want to know how many painkilling potions Snape daily drank to keep himself from screaming in a pain that ought to be unbearable.

Then Severus uncorked the vial and sniffed it. His face showed no expression, no indication that he had recognised the content or not. That didn't stop him from pouring it on his mark.

Remus looked at the silvering blue streak falling on the bare arm then raining on the floor. When the vial was empty, they looked at each other and remembered they hadn't any idea of what the potion was even supposed to do.

Suddenly, Snape gripped his left arm with his right hand, driving nails in the skin, drawing blood at the surface. He pressed his body against a wall, hoping to stop from falling but failed. As Severus' knees abandoned him, Remus ran to his side. The professor's eyes were opened wide in suffering, his mouth voicing a silent scream. On his arm, the liquid above the mark was boiling, emulsifying in black and red with blood bubbles.

Remus caught his robe's tail and the man's arm, then proceeded to dry it from the potion. But as soon as he had wiped a part of it, blood poured again from the mark. A red puddle was quickly forming under them. If this went on this way, Snape would be dead within minutes. Remus headed to the entrance of the cupboard and went to open it despite the aurors danger. He needed Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore this instant!

A whimper from Snape made him turn back. The man was lying on the floor, his robes moistening in his own blood. "It stopped," he murmured weakly.

Remus knelt next to him. The longer they could wait before going out, the better.

Severus convulsed in a spasm and vomited. Everything that he had eaten in the past hours was regurgitated on the pavement. His body was shivering violently in torture.

Remus placed his hand on the man's shoulders, transmitting energy, easing the act. But his eyes opened wide when the substance Snape was throwing up turned in a black trickle. It had the appearance of very concentrated liquid and fumed when reaching the floor.

The convulsions ended at last after a few minutes and Remus made blood, vomit and the unknown thing vanish with a flick of his wand. Snape was panting and his face reflected the dolour he had endured. He had leaned against a wall to support his weight.

Then the potion master lifted the sleeve that had fallen back down as he was bent over the ground. He looked at his arm, pensive. He cleaned it from some blood remnants and caressed it with his fingertips. Pure again, as it hadn't been for twenty years; it was free of the mark. He observed it, not realising fully.

Listening to his gentle instinct, Remus encircled the man in his arms and touched Severus where the dark mark once was. "It disappeared," he said, "It really disappeared."

Snape convulsed again but it wasn't in pain. Remus pressed the man's head against him and let the tears flow.

When he had been in school, Severus had heard everyday about the death-eaters, the defenders of the true wizarding community, those who would save the purebloods from the invasion of mudbloods and the growing number of mudblood-lovers. He had admired them and waited for his turn. At eighteen, he had joined Voldemort. It was the time of the death-eaters' glory. They were feared everywhere. He was proud to show his mark during reunions.

His first killing had cleared him from any of these thoughts. He had murdered a human, a woman who had done nothing but exist. Around him, death-eaters had been slaughtering every muggle. He was for the superiority of wizards over muggles and the interdiction of good schools to muggleborns, but he had never intended to kill someone. He had wanted to create a world where wizards would govern, not destroy. This butchery was… repulsing.

He had remained in his house for days, not getting out of his room. He had destroyed every mirror, not supporting his reflection. He was a murderer. After a month, despaired, he had gone to the only man he could think of: Dumbledore. It had been his redemption to help the headmaster of Hogwarts. The others members of the Order of the Phoenix hadn't trust him; he hadn't care. The only thing that had counted at that time was the acceptance and congratulation in the old eyes. It had been enough to make him go on.

When Voldemort had come back, it had also been enough to make Snape resume his spying activities. Then he had been discovered and tortured, barely escaping with his life.

He hadn't been an active death-eater. But he hadn't been either an honest man: the dark mark proved it, spy or not. It had been a reminder of what he had done, of the woman he had killed. That was the reason he never wore short sleeves. He couldn't bare the sight of it.

And now it had disappeared. He was free, and his conscience was at peace.

Holding him, Remus said nothing. They all had their own demons. Severus had been liberated from his. The tears that dampened Moony's robe were nothing. He would never make use of them, for he knew that, should someone discover a way to rid him of the wolf, he would react the same way.

After a moment spent in eerie silence, Snape escaped from Lupin's arms and gained his feet. Neither of them commented and they went out. Dumbledore was showing the aurors to the door and they turned back on them. The officials eyed the headmaster suspiciously. Obviously, he had fed them a good lie.

"Already back?" asked Dumbledore innocently.

"Yes, they hadn't what I searched for," answered Severus in the same tone. During the time they had worked together, they had always used the same fiction: Snape was out to buy potions ingredients. Easy to cover and perfectly logical, given his job. "The elves told me you wanted to see me," the man added to make a show of Dumbledore's goodwill in front of the aurors.

The headmaster opened the mouth to speak but was cut off by an auror who raised his wand. "Lift your sleeves," he ordered.

Snape was astonished. "My sleeves? Why?"

"Lift your sleeves!" repeated the other auror menacingly, also pointing his wand at the potions master.

Snape frowned and obeyed. Right then left. There was no mark. The aurors gaped and Dumbledore's eyebrow slightly hooked.

"I've worked here as a teacher for twenty years. Don't you think someone would have discovered me if I had been a death-eater?" inquired Severus, tilting his head in reproving of their obvious stupidity.

The aurors covered and fled the office as valiantly and officially as they could after having made such a fuss for nothing.

When they were out, Snape smirked. "I'll do it again as many times as they want," he announced. Then he twitched, fell backwards and caught himself to a chair.

Remus sighed. "You should lie down and rest. You lost a lot of blood," he recalled.

"I don't need a baby-sitter," growled Snape. As Dumbledore was staring intently at his arm, Severus presented it, trying desperately to stop the proud and happy grin from boasting. It would be at the antipodes of Slytherinish behaviour.

"So he indeed succeeded," said Albus, talking about Draco. "This boy is incredible. I wonder how he knew about the aurors."

"That, I don't know, but on the other hand, I have an idea of where he might be," announced Severus.

o-

Honestly… The way he had broken down in front of them… How un-Malfoyish of him! If his father learnt of that, he would be disgusted by such a show of weakness. Of course, Draco had an excuse: for months he hadn't slept correctly, using any free time he had in performing experiences, hoping that, at length, he would find what was keeping his father from getting better. Tiredness and desperation had drained him of his energy and the dread he had felt when realising his secret had been discovered had been his undoing. What would happen to his father? He had then feared. Would they send him back to Azkaban? Would they offer them to Voldemort in retaliation or revenge? Would they lock up the both of them? Of every possibility that came to his mind, Draco preferred the last one. Despite what he had claimed back in the secret room, he knew that the dark lord would kill him. After all, he had refused to let his father join his master again…

When Lucius had been out of Azkaban then declared dead by the Ministry, Voldemort had felt the liaison with his death-eater still active, through the dark mark's bond. He had of course understood there was a deception somewhere. Was it a trick of Dumbledore? Of the ministry? Of Malfoy himself? The high lord was intelligent: he could very well have considered that his side in the war wasn't so strong anymore that he could risk remaining in it, then imagined this plan to escape from Azkaban. After that, Lucius would have gone to Dumbledore and proposed an alliance. That was only logical. Lucius wasn't a man one could trust: he only had his family in mind and would betray anyone to ensure the Malfoys' surviving among the most powerful side. But death-eaters presents at Malfoy's funeral had revealed that the body was real and not a polyjuiced imitation. How was this possible? Lucius was dead and alive at the same time!

Voldemort reflected on this problem for days. A little piece of information had placed him on the way to the truth: Draco hadn't been present at Lucius's funeral. Why? The boy almost venerated his father! And he had refused to attend to his burial? It was highly and quaintly in contradiction with his Malfoy heritage and education. Then why? There was obligatorily an explanation as to why Draco had wished to remain in Hogwarts… Slytherin students had reported that Draco was preparing Wolfsbane Potion for the werewolf, as Severus wasn't able to anymore. Voldemort smirked at the memory. Torturing the traitor had been a pleasure. A pity that he had fled…

So Draco was playing Potions Master for a Gryffindor… Lucius had bragged one day how his son was gifted at potions. And he had taught him well… Could it be that? Could Draco have imagined this complicated story to take his father away from prison? Lucius had been ill, and dying. Azkaban was run by a virus that killed its prisoners, maybe placed on purpose by the Ministry to definitely take care of the arrested death-eaters, since they had no dementors anymore.

Voldemort ordered his death-eaters to commit their children to secrecy and to keep a close eye on Draco. After weeks of observation, his thoughts were confirmed. Draco's health was declining, but he was in his bed every night; and he made a large use of ingredients and Snape's lab. Lucius simply HAD to be hidden somewhere, under Draco's care. And the boy used the same means to meet with his father that he had to create a second Lucius: a duplication.

Voldemort admired the boy's intelligence. Now he had to know if Draco was in connivance with Dumbledore or not. He entrusted the Parkinson girl with a message for the Malfoy junior, asking that Draco hand over his father and meet with him as soon as he could. Not bothering with denying, the boy argued that his father was ill. Voldemort insisted, stating they could cure him outside of Hogwarts. The boy refused. He refused! He wouldn't give his father away, and he wouldn't become a death-eater. That was a declaration of war!

Draco sighed profoundly over his cauldron. Voldemort wasn't an option anymore. And if the Ministry caught them, it would be Azkaban and a quick death: he was too dangerous alive. The third side was Dumbledore's… It wasn't really an opportunity either: too many people wanted Lucius dead there and would at least manage to send them to prison. The idea of being locked in a cell only frightened Draco because of his father's health. Would he be able to survive another passage in this hole? He had scarcely been alive when Draco had come to rescue him, and there was much chance that, despite his being better now, a single week of prison would achieve him.

Draco loomed over his new concoction, gingerly pouring drops of eucalyptus oil in it. His eyes were stinging, both by lack of sleep and the fumes. His hands shivered slightly, and he had difficulties concentrating on what he was presently doing. The harsh beating of his heart in his ribcage indicated he much needed to take a break. Else, he would be forced into oblivion by his body's limits. Should he faint, his boiling and only half-brewed potion could result into a dangerous bomb. He couldn't risk that. Still, he hesitated: nightmares plagued his sleep, stealing from him any rest he could find in it. He dreaded the scenes he would revive if he abandoned himself to his bed. Hitherto, he had relied on potions to divert him from tiredness, but there ought to be a maximum in the number of nights a human could spend without sleeping…

The Slytherin sighed again and cast a spell on the cauldron to freeze it in his current state then headed over to a cot in the next room. In the sole neighbouring bed was his father, whose health had well improved over the last weeks. He now awoke regularly for handfuls of minutes and was eating something else than potions.

The Malfoy lands had been bewitched long ago so that one could perform magic in it without being detected by the Ministry. The use of his wand allowed Draco a certain liberty, and it was reassuring to know that it could back him should need arise.

o-

Snape led Dumbledore and Lupin through the fireplace, reaching the place Severus had chosen as their destination. Neither of the two men knew what induced the Potions Master into thinking that Draco could be hidden there, especially since it had been searched numerous times by the aurors.

"What gives you the right to break into my house!" shrieked a woman's voice at their arriving.

"Till Draco is declared dead, this is all his. Moreover, I may go to the Ministry and ask for an official search warrant. Do I need to?" retorted Snape.

Narcissa fumed and pursed her lips in indignation at the menace. "Fine!" She accepted in a scanty tone. "What do you want?" She had had enough of aurors searching the Manor. She'd rather let the three of them do as they wished than to suffer through another investigation.

"I want to see Draco's room," replied Severus.

"Of course… Every person that enters the house comes for his room…" she sarcastically muttered while directing them toward the stairs and preceding them. "Why you think you'll find anything useful in here is above me."

"So you affirm he isn't here?" inquired Dumbledore curiously.

"Of course I affirm it!" she haughtily answered, "And it is better for him! Should he be here that he would receive the severe correction he deserves! To stain the family reputation in such a way… After Lucius, Draco!"

"Oh please, spare us your little outraged speech!" Snape cut through, "We all know you were aware of Lucius being a death-eater and helped him. You ran to the dark lord when he was sent to Azkaban," he recalled.

Since the Malfoy senior had been officially proven of being a death-eater, Narcissa had conducted political affairs. She had gained the good graces of Voldemort thanks to her husband's sacrifice for his master and earned the Ministry's absolution by publicly denouncing some of Lucius' behaviours. Yet, she had always affirmed she didn't know he had been a death-eater, that it surprised her that Lucius would accept a master. Dumbledore wondered why: she could have claimed to have been forced into silence by her husband.

Narcissa stopped abruptly and slowly turned her head toward Severus, glaring at him. "I remember you licking his boots for twenty years. I have no lesson to receive from you."

Then they went on walking, Dumbledore softly restraining Severus from lashing on the woman. Suspicious, they followed. They'd have to discuss that later on, thought Dumbledore. After leading them through other corridors, she opened a door to let them enter and disappeared another way. As soon as the door was closed back, Severus cast an anti-spying curse on the three of them. This way, if someone tried to observe them without their knowledge, they would sense it.

"No wonder the aurors didn't find anything useful in here," commented Remus at the room's sight.

The chamber was perfectly ordered, nothing out of place. A four-poster bed in the middle, a desk in a corner, a large bookcase that covered a full wall, and paintings. There were two doors other than the entrance: the first led to a private bathroom, the second to a wardrobe. Such cleanliness was strange, especially after a visit of aurors. Surely the house-elves had ordered everything back after the official's passage.

"Severus, there is nothing here. And if there was, they ought to have found it," said Moony.

"Because they're all fools. Draco is pursued by death-eaters and aurors; of course he didn't leave a note stating his residence. Just now, they'll all have learnt or suspected my mark's disappearance; that's to say, something made it disappear. Voldemort will understand it's Draco's work and will search for him twice as much."

"Such a potion could protect the death-eaters from prison…" pondered Remus.

"On the contrary!" cut Snape, "Death-eaters are cowards for the most part. If they feel the dark lord is falling, they'll abandon him; especially if they have the certainty that the mark can disappear. The Ministry has very few evidence against death-eaters other than the mark's presence. This potion is a danger for Voldemort. He will want to destroy it."

As he talked, Severus had been rummaging in the desk's drawers, without result. He sighed and scoped again the impeccable room. It was despairing. He dropped on the bed. In silence, Dumbledore went to the bookcase and cast a spell on it. A red glow ran the shelves swiftly, wandering through the numerous books and above a black box, then came back to his wand. Severus examined him with interest. "What did you do?" the Potions master asked.

"A simple detecting spell," explained the old man with a sigh, "It would have detected any handwriting in the books."

Severus' head tilted. "Handwriting?" he echoed, "Do the aurors know of this spell?"

"Some of them do, I suppose. Depending on who led the investigations, they may have already used it or not."

"Could Draco know of this spell?" Snape asked again.

"It is possible."

Severus screwed up his eyes in concentration.

"By the way… How do you know there is something useful here?" inquired Remus. They still weren't aware of the reason why the professor had taken them in Malfoy Manor. It rather seemed like the last place Draco would logically hide in.

Snape smirked, then took a vial out of his robe's interior pocket. "Because of this." he showed it to them. It was the one that Draco had sent not an hour ago. "This vial is called a Highbred Container. It is used to transport powerful and fragile potions. I won't develop the details, but the glass it is made of is rare, which make them very expensive. Also, many of the potions they're usually used for are now classified as dark. Only two places in Great Britain sell them. Both are in Knockturn Alley. Draco is searched by the death-eaters, he couldn't have gone there for one. So he found it somewhere else. And… They had one in Malfoy Manor. I had seen it by chance long ago. Some days ago, it was in Draco's possession," he affirmed.

"How can you be so sure?" Remus was dumbfounded at the logic. Dumbledore was listening with attention.

Severus got up in a dash and joined the headmaster next to the shelves, then opened the box. A red velvet cloth filled it, espousing the form of a vial. Vial that wasn't there. "The Containers are sold in charm boxes that conserve their magical capacities when they are not used. There are two solutions. First: Draco took the vial very few time ago. Second: he took it just after disappearing and projected to use it as a indication for us. I prefer the second. If he had removed the vial just before sending the owl, he could as well have waited for us. No, he is hidden somewhere else. But he couldn't send an indication with the owl, in case it was intercepted. So he used this vial."

"Or he simply needed it for the potion," proposed Remus, doubtful.

"But he would have taken the box with him then. Why let it here? In his room? Among books…" Severus stopped his sentence in the middle and looked at the shelves with interest. "He could have let it on his desk, or where it was stowed by Lucius. But he chose to put in just here…" He eyed the titles of the books, one after the other, opened some of them then closed them again. There were all sorts: in English or Latin; of Potions, Dragons, novels, theatre pieces or others. "I can't claim that I knew Draco well, but I could observe him personally for more than five years. He likes to brag about Lucius, but when he has got a real and important secret, he hides it so well that no one would be able to find it. No one but the people he wants to follow… He's too proud to ask for help but if he wants it, it is here."

Remus and Albus searched too among the books for an anomaly, anything out of place. Suddenly, Dumbledore extended the hand to caught a rather thin book; a novel, "The secret garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett," he read.

"It is a girlish book," pointed out Severus, shrugging. Why would Draco read that? It was exactly the sort of hint they had been searching for. "Look inside," he said.

Dumbledore opened the book and smiled. He showed the page to them. It read: "From the Earth to the Moon." From Jules Verne. The three men looked at each other. The cover had been changed with another book. Severus quickly discovered the book with the cover of 'From the Earth to the Moon' and opened it. It contained the 'The secret garden' text.

"Let's go," declared Severus authoritatively.

o-

They had been back in Dumbledore's office for half an hour. It was almost midnight. They had inspected the book for any mark in it, but there was nothing. The hint they contained had to be in the titles.

"It could refer to Astrology," suggested Remus, in reference to 'From the Earth to the Moon'.

"But why the garden then?" asked Severus, talking about 'The secret garden.'

"The Astronomic Centre of Ben Nevis is a neighbour of the Magical Reserve of Scotland," put forward Dumbledore. "And in the middle of the labyrinth is the Dragon's Den," he recalled.

In the Grampian Mountains of Scotland, on the top of the mount Ben Nevis, the wizard observatory of Great Britain was edified. Around it, the forest had been declared a national reserve. Many centuries ago, these lands had been the property of a wizard high lord, fanatic of dragons: MacNash. The man was a legend among the dragons' keepers: he had succeeded in soothing then taming an Hebridean Black adult female which had fled its native Islands of Outer Hebrides for Scotland. To this day, he is still the only one to have performed such an achievement. After him, some wizards had tempted their chance the same way and were gravely burned in return, if not killed. Many then had preferred to get dragons' eggs and to educate the animal from its birth. For one or two decades, the method had appeared as the good one, but as the dragons reached their adult age, they revolted and slaughtered every near human. At that point and for this reason, dragons' eggs had been classed A in the forbidden trade goods. Time had passed and the Hebridean Black of MacNash had died of old age. He had never really passed over it and got forged a full sized silvered dragon, that he had installed in the middle of a labyrinth, on his lands. He had ruined his family in the process.

Now, the lands were the Ministry's property and a magical animals' reserve. But the labyrinth and dragon had been conserved intact. And the south labyrinth was connected to the northern part of the Malfoy grounds…

"We won't be granted access tonight…" acknowledged Severus.

"I need some days to obtain passes," said Dumbledore.

The reserve was well protected, due to the number of rare animals it sheltered. They should be able to enter undetected but to search for Draco could take them a long time. They could be uncovered by magical captors. They had to use the official way for that. A danger: the aurors would be notified of their demand in no time. They surely would then spy on them the moment the Hogwarts' teachers penetrated the reserve. But it was a risk they had to take; they only would need to be very prudent not to reveal anything they would discover there.

o-

**Wednesday, May the 11th **

Severus was overjoyed. He hid it well though. Students and teachers thought him to be so angry they'd better not walk by him in any place. He had begun his day by a surprise visit in the Slytherin dungeons, taking points off his own house –who would know?- for messy dorms. It wasn't much, but it sufficed to relieve part of his vengeful feeling. For more than fifteen years, he had had to favour some Slytherins that were so dumb… it had been torture to praise such imbeciles because of their fathers' rank among the death-eaters, or because they all knew of his secret: that he was a death-eater. But the fun was: he wasn't anymore!

Then he had had two hours of Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw fourth year. The first were fine, they kept in rank, never opened their mouth, and worked in an eerie silence. It happened that they boiled some cauldrons but not many. They were prudent and learned their potions' lessons in advance, out of fear of the professor. The second were different… Ravenclaws had the tendency to be full of their own importance when it came to work. They imagined themselves as grand discoverers and never stopped to think before testing. That often resulted in horrible explosions that partly destroyed the lab. But this time, he had done so well that they would never attempt anything again. They had been terrorised to death!

And after that, the best part! Sixth year Slytherin/GRYFFINDOR! Snape had reached the summit of pleasure. He feasted this beautiful day by a raid against the red ones. The regulars: Potter and Weasley. The extra: Granger. The shock on her face had been a delight. And all the others: Gryffindors and even Slytherins. Well, no… not all… only one escaped. One that no one would think of: Longbottom. He had been so afraid of the lash against his friends that he hadn't done any wrong during the couple of hours. There had been some rectification that could have been done but globally, it had been a very good work… for his level of clumsiness… Besides, Longbottom was more of a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor: that's to say it was funnier to let him go unpunished and hark back the happenings in his mind. Finally, his father had been a very good man, back in his young years, very tolerant, contrarily to most Gryffindors… All that meant that Longbottom was the only student to get out of the classroom without having made his house lose points.

At lunch, he headed toward the teachers' table with the same happy feeling. That was to be abruptly accosted by McGonagall.

"Severus! What did you do to the Gryffindors! They reported you took a hundred points off of them!" she reproached. Dumbledore tilted and smiled in his beard when he heard.

"Who? Me? No… Only eighty. But I thing they forgot to narrate to you how the Slytherins lost as many of them… Hum?" He hypocritically recalled, while looking at the group of sixth year Gryffindors behind her. As long as he didn't play favouritism, no one could complain. The four houses were all in the same boat.

"Ah… No, they didn't say," acknowledged the Transfiguration Professor. She frowned. That was rather unfair of them not to have mentioned such a point. If Severus had taken points off his own house, it had had to be important. "What happened?" she asked with resignation. At this rate, they would count the negative points at the end of the year.

"I'm feasting the event," Snape declared.

"What event?" she inquired, eyebrows arched by surprise.

But Severus didn't answer and simply smirked before joining Dumbledore at the table. It was when he sat that she noticed and gaped. His sleeves were lifted up. In public.

Fine. It had to be a joyous event. To Hell with the points.

Three days later, they received the passes for the reserve.

o-

**Saturday, May the 14th **

Draco awoke with a start, his forehead soaked with cold sweat, body trembling with fear. Again this nightmare… Never would it stop. These images, memories of when he had… no! He shouldn't think about it. It only made it worse. If only he had a Pensieve, he could have relieved his mind of such horrors; but what with death-eaters and aurors watching the round grounds… The owl he had sent Professor Snape had been his last, it wouldn't come back: too dangerous. The departing of the little bird had attracted Draco's pursuers, and it was only a matter of days before they discovered his hiding place. It was by chance only that the owl hadn't been caught. He couldn't afford to receive news of his contacts. Draco was in an impasse. In front: the Ministry, that wanted his father dead and him locked up. Behind: the death-eaters, that wanted his father to give his opinion of this situation, that's to say to come back or to die, and to kill him because of the potion. Rather, Voldemort wanted to kill Draco. The death-eaters had surely been fed a good lie or simply ordered to kill him. They weren't to know why.

Draco paused to consider this again. There was a last possibility that he hadn't thought of previously: the dark lord had some fanatics among his death-eaters, people that were ready to go to Hell for him. The existence of this potion wouldn't change their behaviour and the obedience they had for their master. Voldemort ought to have entrusted them with Draco's case.

The boy sighed. He should have gone back to Dumbledore. The old man had given him his wand back after all. He couldn't be SO bad as to try luring Draco into a trap, was he? He was a Gryffindor, they don't do traps; they rush ahead and discover the consequences when they fall on them… No? No. There was at least one person, Gryffindor or not, that didn't play by Gryffindor rules. And this one person was one too many.

Some months ago, Draco would have thought: you shouldn't trust a Gryffindor; they could have a spy among them and never notice it. But Snape had been a spy too, and among Slytherins. It was treason! Moreover, how had Dumbledore known of the attack at the Department of Mysteries? Surely from the Potions Master. And that had sent Lucius to prison, where he had almost been killed! Yes, BEEN killed: such a deadly virus couldn't have developed there so quickly especially at the exact time death-eaters were sent to Azkaban.

Draco had got to his father just in time. He had cured him, but even when the disease had been drained from his body, Lucius hadn't been cured. There had been something else, something Draco had hoped wouldn't cause a problem. He had underestimated his own potion.

He hated Snape for what he had done. Didn't he? Why had the Potions Master betrayed them so? Why had he betrayed Draco! Had it been long since he joined Dumbledore? When Draco had been younger, and the man taught him the rudiments of the potion's art, had it been for Dumbledore too? Had Snape only been spying on Draco's father? The boy sighed. These problems wouldn't be resolved by turning them over in his mind. And in no way would he talk to the professor about it. He had his dignity! To admit he had been hurt by Snape's announce of treason… No… Let's forget that too. That made many things leave his mind.

o-

**At the same moment**

The same three men flooed to the observatory of Ben Nevis then walked to the reserve. They were keeping silent. Dumbledore had warned them not to converse orally. Aurors surely would be spying on them. What to say about death-eaters? Thankfully, the old man was part telepathist. That sufficed.

To be granted access to the reserve, Dumbledore had had to say that death-eaters lacked a very important ritual item that could possibly be found in the centre of the labyrinth. He also suspected that Voldemort had remained hidden there for a while to search for it but hadn't discovered it yet. It was very possible that the Ministry had dispatched aurors immediately at the news. If the headmaster had received a positive answer to his demand, it was that the officials hadn't disclosed anything during their three days of research. And it meant they were watching the newcomers even more closely.

The influence Dumbledore had at the Ministry was a thing he often mused on. Fudge was a dangerous fool: he changed sides continually. He accepted the great wizard's help when thinking he wouldn't succeed alone, but as soon as he saw an opening, he took it. Meaning, the minister was as much of a menace as Voldemort. Both of them were extremists. The dark lord wanted to enslave the muggles, but since his enemy's official return, Fudge had expressed his will to rid England of every potential death-eater. This epidemic in Azkaban was… suspicious to the least. Some of the prisoners there could be saved from Voldemort… if they were still alive. But Dumbledore couldn't openly oppose the Ministry on such a controversial subject that was the Azkaban's prisoners. The population's reaction would be immediate and against him. This same population was the only power Dumbledore had against the Ministry. That was why he needed Draco.

The boy had more than earned a safe place to rest. He was in danger and had to be saved. More: Draco's choices and the importance with which Lucius considered his family could force the man to change sides in this war. It could be a great achievement for the light side. Despite the public opinion, the Malfoys were very important to the dark lord and not simply the inverse way. This family was ancient, maybe as old as Hogwarts itself. It was surrounded by powerful magic, a magic that couldn't be seen or manipulated by wand. And Voldemort extracted an enormous part of his powers from his death-eaters' magic. It was no wonder he searched for his servants among the finest families. And Slytherin was a concentration of them. They had been his first targets, and they had been more than ready to follow, for he had offered the promise of wizard's supremacy over muggleborns.

They had already been walking for a while when they finally reached the labyrinth's entrance. If this part of the park had been conserved, it sure hadn't been taken care of. Plants ran widely wild and they wondered if they would be able to pass. Centuries of growing vegetation ought to have filled every empty passage.

Dumbledore contemplated the work of nature. The two professors were actively trying to discover a way to enter the labyrinth, but the headmaster remained in his place, immobile and silent. Suddenly, he grumbled in his beard and called the others.

"We're going back," he simply said without adding further explanation.

Remus and Severus glanced at each other in surprise, both of them pondering what nurtured the old man to act as he did. Had he felt a danger? Had he felt Draco? They wouldn't have an answer before their return to the school. Besides, they wouldn't have asked, attentive to this constant watching of them.

As they arrived near their departing zone, the astronomic centre, a dozen of aurors accosted them. They weren't menacing or frightening, but Severus appreciated Dumbledore's presence at his side. He had never felt comfortable surrounded by aurors, and this bad impression surely would remain till the end of his life.

"Already back?" an auror asked with an obviously faked neutral tone.

"The orb isn't here anymore," answered Dumbledore angrily, "We are too late." It implied he blamed the aurors for this failing. If they hadn't lost three days with faked forms, maybe would they have found it in time. Severus flinched and Remus frowned anxiously. Were they really too late? Had Draco been taken by the death-eaters? Had he been found by the aurors? The officials could have led Dumbledore here so that he would reveal if he had been aware of Malfoy's hiding place by searching for him.

But the great wizard didn't pronounce any other word apart from his destination at the fireplace. They were returning to Hogwarts, not that Snape would complain for leaving the so appreciating aurors' company. From the glares the officials were sending them as they disappeared, this situation wasn't the one they had desired. Remus wondered for a moment which side they were on, but this thought was put rapidly aside by his concern for Draco.

As they reappeared in Dumbledore's office, Snape and Lupin could barely contain their questions while the headmaster closed the floo-network. One never knew: the aurors could have been listening from the other side. Then Dumbledore sat in his armchair, summoned a teapot and three cups and looked at the two waiting professors. Eyes enlarged by desire of knowledge, pupils dilated by care.

Dumbledore sighed and affirmed, "They weren't there."

They gaped, "How do you know?" asked Remus, subjugated by the apparently so simple deduction, but that had to come from a very complicated way of thought.

"I should have understood three days ago. Draco is intelligent. He sent the vial specifically to you, Severus, because you are one of the very few that practices both potion art and dark magic and because he trusts you. Why would he then use as a next hint such a non-personal place? He ought to have imagined a scenario in which the aurors would have noticed the two books and thought of the labyrinth… So, the books are to be a very precise information that only one of you can decode. Remus, what was it about these children of yours that he would teach quidditch to?"

A gleam of hope suddenly lightened Lupin's eyes. "Of course! Albus, you're a genius! I know where he is!"

"Where?" asked Severus as suddenly at the revelation.

"Is there a way to enter the Malfoy lands undetected by Narcissa?" asked Lupin back, inattentive to the question.

"No," deceived Dumbledore. As Hogwarts, the Malfoy grounds were powerfully charmed to detect every person that penetrated them. The headmaster tilted. He hadn't felt Draco as he should have when the boy had brought and hidden his father in the school. But he had had to go to the Ministry two times around Christmas… Had Draco learned of it and used this time he was provided? Minerva had talked of his visit to Fudge during the midnight supper. The boy ought to have heard. Dumbledore smiled: one should never underestimate a Slytherin. They were chosen for their ambition, bad… or good. If only a little part of the house could join their side, they would be assured of victory. And the reversibility of Lucius could play a very important role in that. The man had been the sole influence that took many of his fellows into joining the dark lord. A direct opposing could change many things.

Remus was pondering on Dumbledore's negative answer. He obviously needed to enter the Malfoy lands.

"You shouldn't worry about Narcissa when it concerns the grounds. She has no legal power over them. The aurors are another matter," counselled the headmaster.

"The aurors are no problem. We're going then," declared Remus, suddenly very authoritative.

It was decided that Dumbledore would stay at the school. The presence of the two professors would already attract much of the aurors' attention. No need to worsen it. Remus sole had an excuse to go there. Severus would play the friend's role. It wouldn't fool any person that knew them, but some officials shouldn't cause problem.

They flooed to Hogsmeade then apparated next to the limit of the high lord's lands. One couldn't apparate directly in it, thanks to a four centuries old charm. They traversed the border by foot and headed toward South.

Deep forest composed half of this magical territory. It was by far the largest wizard property of Great Britain. It was said that a thousand years ago, a child of the unknown Malfoy family had served the Duke of Erkas, who was among the most powerful wizard of the time, counterpart of the founders. Erkas had lived in the retired and inhabited misty deserts of North Scotland. Despite his isolation, he had reigned over almost the full country, making an art of connections, menaces and favours. At the Duke's death, the Malfoy family had gone on serving his son, then grand-son, and it had gone on this way for three centuries. After so many years of good and loyal services, the Duke's family had been extinguished during a High Clans war. A decade later, an alliance of the Malfoys with some other families of Scotland had assured them the victory against the same high clan that had destroyed the Erkas. It marked the apparition of the future dark lands.

The Malfoys associated anew with their allies and lived under a partake ruling for two centuries. Each family possessed a part of the grounds. The official laws were voted by a council, constituted of members of the families. The number of representatives they had at the council was proportional to the surface of their lands. For a time, it assured their union of a strong power against the other high clans of Scotland. After that, it became Hell and the Malfoys rejoiced. In many families, the first born had inherited the title of ruler. But for the younger children, to find allies had been a difficult and impossible task. The high clans had refused their services because they came from the common lands and they had had to resolve into marrying lesser people. Generations were born and dead, and the number of pushed aside had increased dangerously. They laid claimed to part of their family grounds. Some insisting ones had to be executed as a demonstration. The power was to remain in the heir's hands solely. The revolution cracked. Many families were ruined or completely destroyed.

After the disaster, the Malfoys arrived and proposed to buy some of their grounds so that they would have the necessary money to reconstruct the rest. Contrarily to the others, they had had only one child per generation, ensuring there would be no problem with the inheritance moment. It had been a risk: should the heir die too soon, the family would disappear. But they had survived. And with the power they acquired at the end of the civil war, they were face to face with the high lords. These ones didn't see well the growing importance of a lower family, especially one that had served an enemy of their.

As protection, the Malfoys joined what remained of the Slytherin family. Later, they severed their bond as the disastrous episode of Salem was taking place in America. At that time, the Malfoys had become largely capable of surviving alone.

Remus wondered how they considered their familial history. It was no more and no less than a millennia of services. The Malfoys had long remained in shadow, right hands of the most powerful ones of their respective times. Never had they really been in charge. But they were intelligent, cunning, of good counsel and very rich, able to counter any financial crisis that could arise. That sufficed for them to be chosen among many others by those who searched for a second. But Lupin pondered how people could trust them: the Malfoys weren't known for their fidelity except that to their own family… No, the only ones they had served till the end had been the Erkas. What had been different then? It couldn't simply be an affair of power, for the Erkas had been going downhill for a time already when they were attacked. But never the Malfoys had abandoned them…There had to be something, something that could insure of their fidelity. Had Voldemort discovered what it was? Rather, had he not? Remus had once heard Snape narrating to Dumbledore how Lucius Malfoy took liberty of doing or saying some things that would get any other death-eater crucioed. Dumbledore seemed to know about it, but as usual, he didn't talk of it. It was disconcerting to be let in the dark but after all, the less that knew of Voldemort's methods, the less chances there was of a second dark lord.

Last but not least, when Lucius realise his son and himself were on different sides, what would he do? Family was always first, but which one of them would crack up first? Had Draco got the nerves to resist his father? Dumbledore affirmed there was nothing to fear, that Lucius would keep his son at bay from his master; but what reason would he have? If Lucius vouched for Draco and the boy demonstrated his good will by accepting some mission, Remus's work of many months could very well be reduced to ashes.

Remus scoped the vast valley and caught sight of the house they had been heading to. Aurors were waiting at the doorstep, staring in the newcomers' direction. Lupin glanced at Snape. The man had noticed too that they weren't the sole visitors of the day. They traversed the last meters that separated them from the group and confronted them.

"You again Dars?" stated Severus gravely. In his mind, Oliver Dars was part of the worse aurors. Fifteen years ago, he had actively searched proof against the potions master, and quite rightly for Snape had never been kind to him. Remus suspected vaguely that he had attacked the auror during his service as former death-eater, but it was a subject one that desired to remain alive didn't tackle, so he hadn't got confirmation.

"I may reverse the compliment." Dars pursed his lips. "You're everywhere today."

… So they had already heard of their excursion to Ben Nevis…

"What are you doing here?" asked another official they didn't know.

Snape frowned his eyebrows. "Is there a law that forbids to visit former friends?" he inquired back.

"When said friend lives on the Malfoy grounds, it should," denounced Dars before turning toward Remus, "You shouldn't associate with such people, Lupin. It could get dangerous."

With this half menace, they went away. But even if the officials had disappeared from sight, the professors could feel their eyes on them. They were observing, crouching in shadow, waiting for them to let go of pieces of information.

Lupin went to the door and knocked. After some seconds, steps were heard behind it and an old woman opened them. She looked at them for a time and smiled when she recognised Remus, then invited them to enter.

"How are you?" she asked when they sat with tea and cookies.

Remus narrated the events of the past ten years, time that had apparently elapsed since their last encounter. She listened to him, questioning here and there, nice and smiling. Severus was loosing patience and fought not to show it. They had come here to have news of Draco, not to engage in grandmother talk. Still, Snape learnt what had convinced Remus that they would find information there: long ago, the werewolf had been found by the old woman in her garden, a night of full moon.

An hour after his arriving, his patience was awarded. The old woman went to her chimney and attentively eyed a sculpture of squirrel. The animal was superbly crafted in copper, his green emerald eyes gleaming strangely. When she was assured of what she had been waiting for, she came back to the table, suddenly serious.

"You're here for Draco?" she verified.

Remus nodded. "He let us have information that conducted here," he explained.

She sighed. "I was waiting for you much sooner. I received no news from him since last week."

Severus eyed them with suspicion, unsure of their dialogue. The aurors had been spying on them. Did they give up? It was strange of them. When seeing his look, the old woman softly smiled and said "I have a detection spell on the garden. If they attempt to magically or physically spy on me, the squirrel's eyes become red."

Snape bent in admiration. "Do you know where Draco is?"

"I am not sure, but I may have an idea. I think he is in the old crypt."

They frowned. "What crypt?"

"It dates from his great grandfather. He used it for a dark ritual of demons invocation. It was destroyed in an explosion during the fifties. Some years ago, Draco wanted to restore it and use it to play hide and seek, but his father forbade him. The place was dangerous due to remnants of potions and gases, not to forget minor demons. But the obstinate boy had to tidy it still! It is liveable and no one apart from us knows about it. He ought to be hidden there," she affirmed.

They gaped. "As simple as this?" asked Remus.

"No," she darkly answered. "Death-eaters have been turning around the place for days. They are aware of him being near here and won't stop till they get him…" she stopped abruptly and turned to the squirrel. The emerald eyes were gleaming above the chimney. "But I won't delay you any longer, you surely have much work at the school."

The aurors were back. It was no use to stay anymore. They took leave, and she gave them a full box of cookies. When the professors exited the house, the officials were waiting outside, raging. They had fathomed they had been tricked and had missed the important part. They examined the box and stopped when they discovered that it contained nothing more than cakes. Too much could lead them into transgression of human's liberties.

Out of the Malfoy lands, they apparated to Hogsmeade, ran to a pub and flooed to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was waiting for them in his office.

"Ah… Effectively, I recall old Alayin. She came to Hogwarts when I was transfiguration teacher. Students feared her because of her white hair. She always had a thing for extraordinary hiding places." As he talked, the headmaster opened the box, took out a cookie and broke it. Rumples fell on his desk. Disappointed, he took another and repeated the move. Again and again until he found what he had been searching for. From his last broken cookie, and under the bemused eyes of the adults, he extracted a folded paper. It was a drawn map of the Malfoy's lands Southwest part. On it was indicated some paths, a little river and the entrance of the crypt.

"We should hurry." Dumbledore got up. His face was anxious. They needn't narrate what they had been said. No sooner had they entered the room that Severus had let him access to his mind, transmitting his last memories. If death-eaters had been prowling Draco's retreat, they ought to have seen the owl he had sent Severus. It was bad news. He went again to the chimney and directed to Malfoy Manor.

When Severus and Remus followed in the large Hall, they discovered a flustered Narcissa animatedly discussing with Dumbledore. She was completely frantic, so out of place in the strict house. She headed toward a window and scanned the outside. Frowning, she examine the map, reversed her feet to a darkened wall and muttered incomprehensible words, making it open.

Snape had never doubted there were secret passages in Malfoy Manor, but to see Narcissa revealing one to them was something he hadn't be prepared for, and he took some time to regain his stopped breath before following them onto the stairs. When had she changed sides? Or rather, when had Dumbledore discovered that she would help them?

They ran almost two kilometres underground, in a tunnel illuminated by torches that lightened up at their approach. Finally, they reached another flight of stairs that led them back to air and deep forest. They heard the noise of pouring water: they were near a cascade. Never stopping, wand out, Narcissa led the headmaster toward a dark and well camouflaged gothic building.

Suddenly, Dumbledore cast a double stunning spell in the woods. All turned to him at the act. But the old man quickly went to the crypt door and moved the large and heavy forged piece of metal. The door was only slightly opened so that they heard racket coming from the catacombs.

A death-eater launched on them and was immobilised by a curse from Narcissa. Another tried to stun Dumbledore and was projected against a stoned wall by the impact of his spell on the old wizard's magical buckler. They went on running in the spiralling stairs, entered the crypt's catacombs…

Voldemort was there, accompanied by four death-eaters, but all were too occupied to notice the newcomers. Behind them, Lucius fell on the floor. Behind the dark lord, hidden in shadows, Draco extended the hand and caught Voldemort's wand. At the same time, the wizard raged and wandlessly accioed it; Dumbledore cast a freezing spell on both the adult and child, and Draco made to crack the piece of wood.

"Draco, stop!" shouted the headmaster.

The spells rebounded as an enormous explosion trembled the crypt's walls and projected Draco metres away.

"ooooooo"

The same day, some hours sooner 

Lucius stirred in his bed and awoke. A reflex he had caught during the last handful of days made him turn his head toward the cot which Draco was resting in. The boy was contemplating the ceiling, his eyes in the vague. The young hand was clutching a sheet, so tightly that it could have reduced it to shreds without noticing. How much his world had changed in a mere year, Lucius pondered. During the last spring, the dark lord had slowly been rising; Malfoy had taken back his place of right hand and they had been plotting the attack at the Department of Mysteries. Then it had been Azkaban. A traitor had denounced them. Then it had been death. The Ministry wanted them to disappear. This was Draco's opinion. It sounded true.

The boy had matured. He had taken decisions many would rather have fled. He had taken a part in the war no one would have imagined. Not that many knew about it, but the ones who did were the most important. Lucius had been horrified. His son had defied Voldemort!

"You fool! You don't know what you risk!" the man had yelled when first hearing about it.

But Draco's eyes had saddened as he softly answered: "I knew what danger I gambled when refusing the dark lord and tricking the Ministry. But you're right, I hadn't foreseen the rest."

What rest? Draco had avoided the topic. But if the boy thought his father hadn't noticed his many nightmares, he was very wrong. Still, there was no point in questioning him further for the moment, for Draco had not only grown up mentally, he had also learnt to direct his life. He now was his own influence and evolved in a way he solely chose. He wouldn't answer.

Feeling he was watched, Draco turned his head, meeting his father's gaze. He smiled genuinely. "You're awake?" he half asked, half noticed.

Lucius sat on the mattress. He felt fine. The virus was a bad memory. "I am," he acknowledged.

The both of them had lunch in silence. One month of loneliness. It was surely the longest time Lucius had ever spent alone with his son. Maybe had he needed it, to remember Draco wasn't a pawn to be directed at his will, but a person that could make choices, choices that his father didn't want to but would have to accept and to respect.

Draco had used a subterfuge only the boy knew of to enter Azkaban, the most guarded prison of the entire wizarding world. He had duplicated his father and, who knew how, taken one of them out with him. He had managed to penetrate Hogwarts with a dying body, to hide it and to cure it partly with the full Slytherin house watching his every move. But why stop there when all was getting on so well?

Lucius had always underestimated Potions. He hadn't seen Severus's treason, he hadn't seen the influence the man had on his son, and he hadn't seen the power this art could give Draco. The dark mark, sole proof the aurors had against many death-eaters, could disappear. This put the boy into immeasurable danger: the Ministry wanted him dead so that he couldn't protect death-eaters, and Voldemort wanted him dead so that he wouldn't tempt his servants into abandoning him. And Dumbledore? What did the old imbecile think of it? He had to know about it, by Severus. By the way, what had convinced Draco to save the Potions Master? The traitor would have been better in Azkaban among the ones he had sent there, partaking in the deadly civilities of the aurors. But no, Draco had created this potion and now owed Snape's debt. That's to say, if everything had taken place as anticipated. Draco had cast a spell on the owl, to be informed when it reached Hogwarts' barriers, but maybe the aurors had arrived too soon. Maybe the death-eaters had intercepted the bird, discovered the curse and taken him to the school as a diversion.

Lucius sighed. Draco had said he expected help. Frankly, Lucius thought it was a bad idea. There was many chances that they were found by the death-eaters before said help arrive. The problem was: one can't apparate on the Malfoy grounds. So they had no way out other that running. That wasn't a good idea either. It came back to waiting, something he hated. Draco had led his affairs well for a year; let's do as he said.

The day passed as everyday. Draco brewed potions and Lucius read potions books. He had long exhausted the dark arts ones and had had to fall back on the others. And they were the two sole subjects that Draco had taken with him…

Night fell. Lucius tilted. Had it been a step noise that he just heard? "Draco!" he ordered, "Give me your wand."

The boy frowned, understanding immediately the implication. They had only one wand, for Lucius's had been confiscated by the Ministry when he was arrested, and if a duel had to occur, he was by far the strongest. Draco went to the shelves and retired vials full of potions that Lucius didn't want to know of. He gave one to his father to drink, which the man did, vaguely wondering what there was in it for it to taste so horrible. He failed to resist wrinkling his nose in disgust. Draco clutched another vial firmly in his hand and they waited.

They didn't have to wait for long. The exterior door opened violently, clacking the walls, shacking the fragile shelves. A vial fell on the floor and exploded in black smoke. Two death-eaters penetrated the room, immediately deprived of breath by a curse of Lucius. They choked and panicked before fainting. But that, the other death-eaters didn't see, for Draco had broken his cherished vial next to the door and vile black fumes had filled the room.

Thanks to the liquid he had drank sooner, Lucius directed vaguely in the foul frog. But Voldemort remained at the threshold, untouched by the fumes, and for him, a simple spell wouldn't suffice. Lucius had in mind one that would give them the time to escape the place, but Draco's wand wasn't used to such rushes of power and would brake. How then would they counter the death-eaters that ought to be outside on guard?

Draco was still behind him, and the fumes were starting to disintegrate. They had to choose quickly. Lucius pointed the wand at Draco's forehead and established mental speak.

'I curse him and we run,' he simply informed as a plan. Draco nodded in approbation, even if his eyes showed his lack of trust in it.

Lucius crisped the wand in his fingers, and inspired profoundly. Suddenly, he cast a Soul Departing curse on Voldemort and pushed Draco toward the door, faking to follow. Lucius looked at his son disappearing in the stairs and turned back. He saw nothing as he was hit by a Crucio. He countered it and faced Voldemort.

"A sacrifice. It's so beautiful, so Gryffindor," the wizard spat. Lucius had known that both Draco and he wouldn't be able to pass Voldemort untouched, even after the curse. They would have been followed outside and by the time that they reached the lands' limits, the detection and stunning spells would have made good prey of them.

Lucius attempted to place some useful spells but they were easily fought by his former master. How stupid had he been. He should have taught Draco more dark arts rather than waiting for him to grow up. His wand would have been more trained. This month hadn't sufficed to catch back ten years of empty training. But it was too late for regrets. The wand fled from his hand and Voldemort smirked.

"You're so stupid sometimes, Lucius. I know more of your son than you, his father, do. And I know that he would never ever abandon you. He probably ran outside, but quickly turned back as he didn't see you behind him. Then he met Bella. You will die for nothing. Avada Kedavra."

But the curse hadn't totally got out of the wand when a hand reached the piece of wood from behind and caught it. Draco had never gone to the upper part of the stairs. He had stopped mid-way and immediately realised what his father had done, then ran back, determined not to let him die, especially after so much work. He had seen Voldemort, ready to cast the Death curse on Lucius, and had only thought of one thought: stop the man.

And here he was, a metre away from the most dangerous of all wizards, a stolen wand in the hand. He could try using it, but Voldemort would take it back in a mere second. Draco saw the spell coming on him. He heard someone calling him behind, a voice that he knew. But he hadn't time to think. He went to break the wand.

His fingers had only twisted the wood when from inside the wand flashed sparks of energy, projecting him far away. He hit a wall violently and passed out.

End of Chapter 2 

Author's note : Please Review


	3. Chapter 3 : Preludes to disaster

The redemption of a Snake 

**Chapter 3: Preludes to disaster**

**Tuesday, July the 5th **

The first thing he noticed was the comfortable mattress that he reposed on. His body was lying relaxed under the light beams of a dying sun. Draco blinked to correct his fuzzy vision. He was… in Hogwarts' infirmary. What had happened? He recalled stealing Voldemort's wand, attempting to break it, an act that had failed by the way. After that, his memories were blurry. He remembered some scenes. He had then gone to Olivander's for a wand. No, it was stupid. It was a month ago. Why would he have returned there? It surely had been a dream. There also were… dinners in the Great Hall and speeches with Dumbledore… It felt strange.

Draco turned his head toward the door when he heard it opening. From the corridor entered his mother, who stopped at the threshold when seeing him awake. 'Why such a surprise?' wondered Draco. 'Have I been out for so long?' What was she doing here by the way? Why were they in Hogwarts? They should be in Malfoy Manor, shouldn't they? And…

Narcissa ran to the bed and hugged her son tightly.

"Where's dad?" he croaked. His voice was rasp; he needed to drink. He looked at his mother. He ought to have some problems in the head. He saw her twenty years younger. He couldn't have gone into the past, could he?

"He's well, don't worry," she answered, eyes shining.

Draco nodded in comprehension. He tried to escape his mother's arms, his head hurt and he had to lie back down on the bed. Finally resting on the pillow, he pressed his thumbs on his temples then glanced at Narcissa again. Draco smiled. His sight was back to normal, and she looked like as he remembered.

The door opened again and a handful of people entered the infirmary. Draco immediately turned to the person who interested him. Lucius approached the bed and eyed his son. For a time, he seemed to waver, then bent on Draco and clasped him in his arms. The boy sighed deeply. It felt good. He had never considered himself as weak or particularly tender, but after so many adventures, to have his father strong again at his side was reassuring.

Glancing from beneath Lucius' shoulder, he noted the others present. Snape and Lupin were there. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey too but this was negligible. Draco inhaled softly. They had succeeded. They had understood his messages. Yet…

"But… How is it that you are walking freely?" he asked his father.

Lucius rolled his eyes in exasperation. This was obviously the question he didn't like. Draco looked at Snape with wonder: the man was smirking all he could. Lucius' unease rejoiced him. The boy whirled back to his father, eyes enlarged by surprise. Then he chuckled. Maybe the headmaster was better than he thought. Maybe he deserved some esteem, if he could protect Lucius despite their enmity.

"That means he can stay?" he asked Dumbledore avidly, eyes sparkling.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. Draco laughed genuinely and earnestly. After a strange year, everything was back to normal. His father was free, safe and sound; his mother could stop spying, and himself would go back in peace to his potions.

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_Flashback _

_Dumbledore was sitting in his office, wondering how many days would pass till they received the authorisations for Ben Levis. He was musing on Narcissa's role in her son's disappearance. Hadn't she suspected something? Hadn't Draco already thought of his plan when he was still in Malfoy Manor? Why hadn't she forced Draco to assist at his father's burial? She could have, for she was his legal tutor. But she had only insisted, and in private. It was almost as if she had come to Hogwarts only to talk to him. What had they been talking about when they were alone? Had it really been about what they affirmed it had been? _

_Dumbledore concentrated his reasoning on this piece of information. He had missed something important; it was forced. What could they have talked about? Lucius? Could it be that Narcissa had known from the beginning? That she had been helping Draco? But then why did he spread the rumour that he hated her? _

_The headmaster's jaw dropped. "How could I be so blind?" he cursed out loud. Of course Draco had said he hated her! He was openly defying Voldemort, and secretly the Ministry. This way, they would all think of her as an ally when she was the contrary! _

_Moreover, she had declared she had never been aware of Lucius being a death-eater; that was because he wasn't anymore! Draco had managed to find the anti-Morsmordre potion; surely he had applied it on his father's mark already! And it had to be her that had discovered Severus' denunciation! Did she know where her son and husband were hidden?_

_Dumbledore went to the fireplace and cast floo-powder in it. He met an elf and asked for Narcissa. When she appeared on the other side of the magical connection…_

"_We need to talk about your son's belongings," he simply said. Narcissa wouldn't discuss Draco in her own house if she could be spared it, or so he hoped. The aurors had to be spying on her continually, and it ought to work out her nerves. _

_After hesitation, to Dumbledore's relief, she accepted and some seconds later, was in his office. True to his habits, he offered tea and lemon drops. _

"_Well, what is bothering you with Draco?" she inquired._

"_Truly, many things."_

_Her eyebrows raised and Dumbledore suspiciously wondered an instant what it was._

"_First, I'd like to know if he is safe. Second, his location would be much appreciated. And third, your place in this bothers me."_

_She stopped moving at all, not being used to such crudeness from him. Fighting for her coldness back, she hissed: "If I knew where Draco was, he'd be home already, punished as he should be for making me worry so. And regarding my place in this," she sneered, "I could wonder what, or rather who, made him flee from Hogwarts…"_

_Dumbledore frowned. The woman was smart and left him no choice. He eyed her directly, plunging his mind in hers, searching for answers. _

"_You have no right!" she shrieked, feeling her spirit invaded. But Dumbledore didn't waver and searched deeper._

# In the meeting room, three days before Lucius' burial.

"I need you to have him drink that," divulged Draco in a hushed tone, entrusting her with a vial.

"What for?" inquired Narcissa, eyeing the door so that no one would surprise them.

"It's too complicated to explain now, but it's important. Everything would fail if not."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised.

# At the burial, Narcissa searching for an opening in the aurors' and death-eaters' supervising, and failing. Lucius was buried before she could have him drink the potion.

# When Draco escaped Hogwarts and hid in Malfoy Manor.

"Watch him, I have something to do," the boy ordered, talking about his father.

"Draco!" called back Narcissa, "there are aurors everywhere! They'll see you!"

"No, where I'm going, I assure you there's no-one."

She tried to stop him and ask more about it, but he was already out.

# Some hours later

Draco trudged back in the secret room, pale as a ghost, his hands dirtied and bleeding. His hair fell in his eyes, hiding their redness. He was trembling.

"What did you do?" she cried out, running to her son.

He looked at her, then turned to his father to verify he was well. But at the sight, Draco stiffened and lurched to the bathroom. He explained nothing and disappeared with Lucius soon after.

# The following days

Narcissa received many letters from her son, statements of Lucius' reestablishment. She sent others back, telling of what she heard of at the Ministry or in Voldemort's inner circle.

_Narcissa growled in anger at her mind's invasion, while Dumbledore pondered what he had just seen. As he had thought, she had known of her son's activities from the beginning. _

"_Where is he, Narcissa?" he asked kindly._

"_I don't know! Hear it?" she broke, "If I knew, he wouldn't be hiding but at home! But he isn't! He had to imitate Lucius and work alone!"_

"_Narcissa," he attempted to calm, "You know that I would have helped him when we went to the Manor. Why didn't you ask?" _

_The woman hesitated. "He thinks there's a traitor among the aurors," she finally revealed. "Someone very near you, that denounced Severus and him."_

_He hummed, "I thought it had been a death-eater." Snape had betrayed the dark lord; it would have been logical for him to take revenge._

"_No, Voldemort wants him alive for other purposes. The aurors would have killed him. No one would have complained, as he was a former death-eater. That he had been a spy for you didn't count."_

"_Other purposes?"_

"_Yes, he… he asked Draco to join him and to put aside their differences. Draco would destroy his potion, and in exchange, he would accept both him and Lucius back, forgiving everything… Draco refused."_

_Dumbledore frowned, "Why? It seemed a good opportunity to him?" The Malfoys had always been dark supporters. If Voldemort offered them amnesty, it seemed strange that they refused._

"_Because Voldemort would have asked for a proof of allegiance… He would have asked for Severus's head. And Draco would never kill him."_

_It was indeed strange the way this boy had evolved. He had taken both the good sides of his parents after all. Lucius's intelligence and Narcissa's fidelity. They're lucky that it wasn't the inverse way… Dumbledore had been right: if Voldemort thought that Draco hated his mother, he wouldn't harm her to retrieve her son. The same went for the aurors. The Malfoy junior had tricked everyone well._

_End of Flash-Back_

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Draco rested more in the Infirmary. His body had been immobile for more than a month, and his legs had difficulties to regain their mobility. Two more days ought to be necessary before he could go back to Malfoy Manor. Or so he had thought… He had omitted that he had missed the last month of school, and needed to pass all the tests that the sixth years had done during his absence. When hearing such bad news, Draco flinched visibly, till…

"Fine!" he accepted with good grace. "May I use the lab while I'm here?" he asked with a faked innocent smile to his ears.

"No!" yelled Snape instantly.

Draco pouted. "Why? I could help you develop the Wolfsbane…" he insisted with big puppy eyes. "Please?"

Severus grumbled, hesitating. Draco had saved his life with a potion. One more debt. He hated debts, the previous one had ruined his last twenty years and put him in a coma for months… If he could get rid of this one quickly, it could only be a improvement. "Don't be late…" he only muttered before disappearing in the corridor.

"Yes!" hissed the boy, body tensed by pleasure.

Dumbledore hummed, "And your exams?" he recalled.

"Oh, I'll pass them this afternoon," he affirmed with conviction.

Dumbledore's eyes glittered and he walked out. He just had to be present when Draco learned of this extra session that had been created for the sixth years in preparation for the NEWTS…

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Draco bent over his parchment, pondering on what he could invent to complete the required length of four feet. Four feet! And on Transfiguration! The subject he abhorred the most. For months he had to fake indifference and endure stoically his numerous detentions. How many objects or repulsing animals had he turned back then? And he still HAD to remain locked in this classroom for a test he didn't care about! Indeed, of what use would transfiguration be of to him? He had only two choices of career: to take care of the many Malfoy properties or to become potions master. There was no place for morphing!

Draco grunted and plunged his quill in his inkpot. Snape ought to already be working in his lab… without waiting for him, of course! He would pay for that… Draco smirked. This would be easier than more things he had to do. The professor was eager to know about the anti-Morsmordre potion's recipe. Well, he would be patient!

"No, not this way," Professor McGonagall corrected.

Draco frowned and whirled his head toward the voice. Why was she here? He still had half an hour to complete his work! She couldn't come and harass him in between, could she?

But the teacher wasn't interested in him and was lecturing a… a first year?… What was this boy doing here? And… Draco had been alone in the class! When had they entered? It was completely mad... He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The classroom was deserted. Where had they gone now?

"I'm becoming as insane as the old batty…" he muttered while going back to his copy.

After half an hour, punctual, McGonagall entered the class to retrieve his work. Draco fled the place and ran toward the lab. When he opened the door, fumes exited and the boy recognised the Wolfsbane's base. He coughed in order to inform Snape of his intrusion. Not that he would stay long: at that point of the potion, nothing could be done for two days, for it had to boil and reduce. He sighed and sat on a stool in a corner of the room. Some minutes later, as Draco had predicted, Snape cast a spell on the cauldron to keep it at constant temperature, then rinsed his hands and joined him.

"I have questions," the man said.

Draco concurred in the interrogatory. "What do you want to know?" he asked with good graces.

Snape led him in his apartments and served them tea. Draco estimated the man passed too much time with the headmaster. Insanity was contagious and apparently obsession with tea also was. He risked catching it if he stayed too long in Hogwarts.

"So?" he inquired again as they sat.

Snape pondered some seconds which question he would begin by. "When you came to see me in the Infirmary, what were you searching for?" This had bothered him for months. Had he unconsciously contributed to Draco's exploits? What had been the reason behind this sudden attention?

Draco smirked. "We're Slytherins, aren't we, professor? In every one of our acts, there's always an interest to gain…"

The Potions master frowned, stressed. What had the boy done? Had he obliviated him? Spied on him for Voldemort in exchange for time? Tested a poison? A curse?

Draco sipped his tea and observed the moving of the liquid in his cup. He swept a lock of hair from his face and eyed his teacher from below lowered eyelids. "Do people really think of us this way, professor? Do you?"

Snape remained silent. What was Draco trying to say? Of course the world saw them this way, it was a Slytherins' nature to have confidence only in himself. Wasn't it?

Draco raised a sad face. "We do have confidence in some people. We simply need time to develop it. Don't you trust Dumbledore? Well, it just happens that I care about you. I wanted to see if you were fine." The boy was fingering his cup as he made his confession.

'You can trust no-one, **no-one**, it always turns into betrayal!"

Draco frowned. He also heard voices now… He brushed aside the sentence with a wave of the mind.

Severus stared at the boy. Truly? There had been nothing behind it? Nothing at all but real kindness? Snape suddenly felt bad, both at what he considered a Gryffindorish show from Draco and his own lack of confidence in the boy. Hadn't he saved his life? By the way… "If it wasn't to give us hints of where to find you, would you have sent the potion?" The vial, which had contained the anti-Morsmordre potion, had been the first indication in their search of Draco and his father. From what Snape had studied of the potions drop remnants, a common one would have been enough to transport it. So Draco had chosen it on purpose to lead them to Malfoy Manor.

"You don't trust me at all, do you?" the boy gently accused. "Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to protect you long from the Ministry. The fierce defence of a former death-eater, even a spy for the light, would have caused too strong a blow to his side. You would have been sent to Azkaban and died within days. I couldn't let that happen. Who would have prevented the imbeciles from winning the cup?" he smiled.

Draco had been told by Madame Pomfrey that Snape's feasting then anger had completely destroyed every chance of Gryffindor and Slytherin to win the House Cup. Caught in his concern for Draco, Lupin hadn't countered the devastation. Being told about the last events, McGonagall had done nothing either. As Snape didn't like Ravenclaw much either, Hufflepuff had won for the first time in twenty years. Draco had been stricken by the news. When he couldn't fight to take away the cup from the reds, they didn't win. When he didn't try to have them punished for things they hadn't done, they were abandoned to Snape's fury for a thing they weren't responsible for. Effectively, when in Salazar's experiment lab, the Trio couldn't have known he wasn't going to hex the triplet of teachers. They had reacted the best way in the situation. But the professors' anger had exceeded their usual justice – except for Snape that never had any. What world were they living in, pondered Draco? Maybe he ought to try loosing the House Cup in the upcoming year… He apparently had more chances to win it this way…

Snape smirked. Yes, he had done a great job this last month. He was proud of it. And somewhere, he was proud of Draco too, of his decisions and achievements. He recalled what he had needed to see the wrongs in his younger behaviour. Those were horrible memories that he refused to forget: they would indefinitely prevent him from going back to Voldemort.

The Malfoy boy had taken risks few would have even considered. To defy the Ministry and Voldemort, to come against his father's ideology in his face. And for that, Snape thanked Merlin. If it had been another Slytherin child… Many other death-eaters didn't consider their family so highly. Severus wondered how Lucius had first reacted when hearing about Draco's choices.

What Draco had said to convince his father, Snape didn't know. A sure thing was that the man had been won over. When they had penetrated the crypt, Lucius had just escaped the Death Curse, thanks to Draco. Then it was the explosion. Voldemort had noticed Dumbledore. He had then retrieved his wand and fled the Malfoy lands with his death eaters. But aurors had been attracted by the men's presence. A flick of Dumbledore's hand had made dark arts' books and potions disappear. He had then made a wonderful accusing speech at how arresting Lucius Malfoy had been an enormous error. The man had been imperioed; he wasn't even a death-eater! Snape had been indignant at it. Malfoy was guilty! But he had bitten the bullet stoically: if his father were sent back to Azkaban, Draco would take more risks to retrieve him again. And for the moment, the boy had needed attention. The aurors had searched for a mark on the Malfoys. There was none. "How did he escape from Azkaban?" retorted the officials. It was very simple: Voldemort had taken him out, so that he would convince Draco to become a death-eater, a thing that the boy had refused, causing his rapt. And now, the headmaster had Lucius' debt. The man ought to be sulking…

About this battle, there was a lesson Dumbledore had explained to the Slytherin in the Infirmary. From the moment someone possesses his wand, the piece of wood is trained by its use. The more powerful the proprietary is, the more powerful the wand can become. When one breaks a wand, the magic it contains disperses in a blow. And Voldemort is very powerful… Draco had fainted because of the shock between the dark lord's magic and his own. His had been drained, causing his long sleep.

Severus looked at the boy in front of him, a slight smile on his lips. Yes, he was proud. Despite all expectation, Draco had finally turned into a very fine young man. He blinked and remembered he still had many questions to ask.

"How did you penetrate Azkaban?" he inquired. Dumbledore hadn't explained yet to Draco the importance that this could have for them. The boy was still alone with his secret.

Draco smirked. He never answered.

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**Thursday, August the 4th **

A month had passed. Harry had been taken back from his aunt and uncle and now lived at Twelve Grimmauld Place. His friends had joined him there, along with a part of the Weasley family and the Order. Draco had gone back to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius had integrated the Order. This was the official version. The true one was: Lucius had been forced into joining by his debt to Dumbledore and the fact that he no longer had a choice in his side in the war, and the members had been forced into accepting him by their respect for Dumbledore. Despite their hatred of Malfoy, they all had to recognised that, as former right hand of Voldemort, he was the best qualified to bring him down. And when no one was looking at him, Dumbledore beamed in his beard. This was such a sweet revenge on the man…

What had astonished the Order the most were Draco's actions. Why hadn't he simply gone to Voldemort and asked for help? Dumbledore had then strangely eyed Severus and his eyes gleamed. "It appears that your sacrifice for Harry had some other good points than only 'saving the brat that rot your life' as you said."

All frowned. How was that? They were aware that only the protection Snape provided Harry had caused his being discovered as a spy, but how could it have influenced the young Malfoy?

Lucius had growled, "Draco didn't want to kill you, got it?"

Severus had frozen in his seat. Of course Voldemort was impatient of his ex-supporters' death, but thanks to the school's protections, only a resident of Hogwarts could. If Draco had joined him, his first mission would have been to poison his professor… Snape had wondered how many times Draco had really saved him…

Remus never missed an opportunity to ask how the boy was. He was a Gryffindor and liked to have the people he cared for underhand. They could have problems far away and he wouldn't be there for them. Such a subject pissed off Lucius and reminded him of the very little control he now had on his son. Draco was constantly buried in his private lab, concocting Merlin only knew what… that's to say, when he wasn't out.

"He went back to Azkaban," grumbled the high lord. Dumbledore tilted and the audience jumped.

"But… what for?" inquired Remus. He was sure that Dumbledore hadn't talked to Draco yet. They had projected to wait for the beginning of the school year for that, when Draco would be in security in Hogwarts.

"He wants to study the virus, he said. As if his remedy wasn't good enough…"

Let's say that Lucius didn't appreciate the part that his son would play in the war. If he were discovered in Azkaban, it would be immediate death.

"He didn't get caught?" asked Harry, sceptical.

"You think I'd be here if he had?" retorted Lucius. Along with their care for Draco, the sole common point of Snape and Malfoy was that they couldn't bear the Potter child. For the rest, they were worse than harpies in fury.

"Did he find what he searched for?" queried Dumbledore.

"It seems so, for he locked himself in the lab, ordering not to be disrupted."

Snape smirked. Apparently, Lucius now accepted every caprice of his son. For the beginning of term, Draco would be as rottenly spoiled as before… He would have to be punished some time in order to counter this bad behaviour of a rich little boy.

Soon, the reunion came to an end and each went back to his affairs for the adults, games for the children. Remus was part of the group that went back to Hogwarts, not that he lived there during the holidays, but because the imminent night was of a full moon and he needed to spend it hidden in the Shrieking Shack. Those particular days, they always had supper sooner than usual, so that he would have eaten when liberating the wolf. After dining in the company of the remaining teachers, Remus headed toward his transformation place. He closed the plant behind him and proceeded in undressing.

But no sooner had he removed his robes, shirt and trousers that he heard the moving of the Willow. Unsure of whom it could be, he quickly put back on his robes and looked at the entrance. A blonde head peaked out from behind the corner, noticed the professor and penetrated the cave.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be here," Draco said, "Didn't know if there was a place for you in Black Manor…"

Remus smiled. It had been a month since his last encounter with the boy, and even then, he had been in the Infirmary, surrounded by his parents; and the second in exam, pressed to join Snape in his lab. Black Manor… That reminded Lupin that Draco hadn't been told about Grimmauld Place and wasn't even aware of the Order's existence. Lucius had never revealed much to his son, and Dumbledore considered they ought to leave him the holidays before he had to make a choice: to openly fight Voldemort or to remain as neutral as he could. For despite every action of these last months, Draco had never contradicted with the dark lord's opinions. He had merely defended those he cared for. Should Harry be in danger, would he move to help him? Probably not. Lucius had been forced into his choice, but Draco still had to make his.

"How are you, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked kindly. He had approximately ten minutes left before his morphing. A conversation could put them to good use.

At the question, Draco suddenly lost all his countenance and stared fixedly at the floor. There he noticed that his professor had no shoes. He frowned and turned his head toward a corner, where he saw the lying shoes, shirt and trousers. He blushed and turned 180 degrees, to face the wall. "Sorry. You may go on," he invited with an uneasy tone.

Lupin laughed softly. He had no intention of finishing undressing or morphing with Draco here. Thanks to Snape's potion, he had some power over the wolf, but it wouldn't suffice to keep it from attacking the boy. No, the sole company that could venture near him was that of an animagus. And Draco certainly wasn't.

"What brought you here, Mr Malfoy?" he inquired.

"Well…" Draco hesitated. Remus could feel the hotness of the boy's cheeks from feet away. "I… I wanted to thank you… Professor Lupin."

The man gaped. Had he heard well? He had been called by his name! Except from an error due to sickness, this was the first time that Draco used it. It surely was a particular day! More: he had been thanked, an event extremely rare coming from a Slytherin. He smiled again. "You're welcome. I'm glad to see you're fine. I heard you went back to Azkaban."

"Oh… I did. Not that I risked much, the aurors are too stupid to discover how I enter… I wanted to see if there still was someone alive in there, other than the jailers…"

Remus was impressed. If it went on this way, Dumbledore wouldn't even have to ask Draco about it. "And was there?"

"Yes, some. Not much, but enough. I dispersed the antidote in the corridors…" he revealed.

Remus chuckled. Oh, the Ministry wouldn't like that. "That doesn't tell me why you are here," he remembered.

"I thought you could enjoy the company. And I wanted to bring you this." He took a vial out of his robes' interior pocket and twisted his arm backwards so that Lupin could grasp it without the boy seeing too much of him.

"I am still dressed," advised the professor, amused. Nodding, Draco slowly turned and presented the vial again. "What is it?" inquired Remus.

"A development of professor Snape's ideas. We worked on it this month, but I wasn't sure it could be finished by tonight." Draco went on: "It should prevent any influence of the wolf's mind and let you master your full control capacities… I still have no idea how to prevent the morphing and… Well, this way I can stay with you tonight."

"No!" Remus suddenly yelled, starting the boy, "This is dangerous!"

Draco frowned. "Don't you have faith in my potions?"

Remus cringed at the accusation in the voice. "Yes, of course I do," he made up for it, "but if there's a problem, I don't know what… It's dangerous, that's all."

Oh no, not this cunning look! For a moment, Lupin had forgotten that Draco was a Slytherin. "And how will you make me?" Draco asked stiffly, "Your wand…" He went to the lying trousers and retrieved the tool in it. "…is here."

"You're…" Remus was flabbergasted at the child's dare. "Draco! You will stay out of here!"

"Or what? You'll refuse to drink the potion? You'd really kill me then."

Remus' breath hitched in his throat. "How… You…" He pursed his lips, defeated. He had nothing to force the boy out. Abandoning the fight, he ported the vial to his lips and drank. Draco smirked in victory. "But if there's **anything**," warned Remus, "You run out of here! Heard it?"

"Yep!" the boy smiled broadly.

"And if…" Lupin flinched. He was morphing. Dizziness was taking him and he staggered. His breath was going out short and rasp.

"Your robes!" said Draco. The professor had kept it on him, the wolf would panic and it would strangle him. But Remus' head was blurry, his senses increasing and new sensations invading his mind. Draco ran the distance that separated him from Lupin and opened the robe as the human gave way to the animal. The wolf was bigger than he had imagined and he took some steps back in surprise and dread. Had the potion worked? The animal didn't appear dangerous or menacing…

A long cry echoed in the cave and Draco sighed in relief. The wolf approached him and rubbed against his legs.

"I said I'd keep you company, didn't I? So… I don't know what you usually do… You want to go outside?" Draco felt stupid to talk to a wolf. Could Lupin understand him, now that he wasn't human anymore? Apparently yes, for the wolf conducted him to the Willow and waited for the boy to open, his tail balancing in saccades. As the weather was particularly hot, Draco removed his robe and left it next to Lupin's clothes.

When they were out, Remus ran in the woods and soon disappeared from view.

"Were… Lupin!" Draco called back. The wolf wasn't supposed to wander the outside! But he came back as suddenly, a rod tightly clutched in the powerful jaw, and deposited it at Draco's feet. "What?" The boy eyed successively the wolf and the rod. What was he to do with that thing? Lupin pushed the rod more in his direction and Draco took it from the floor. The wolf took some steps back and clenched its muscles.

Draco looked completely lost. Despaired, the wolf jumped, hoping something would tilt in the boy's head. "But what do you… oh… ah, ok…" And Draco hurled the rod. In a dash, the wolf ran after it and brought it back. They went this way for half an hour, and Draco thought: 'Of course he was to become enraged some times; locked up in that cave when he could have fun outside… What were they thinking to keep him in there?' But he was quick to forget that there had been a time when he praised such actions against werewolves.

Draco sighed. The wolf was so quick that the rod hadn't the time to touch the ground before it was already caught. Smirking, the boy took out his wand and enchanted it. "This way… We'll have more fun…" He threw it again. As usual, the wolf ran its way, jumped… and missed it. He looked in awe at the piece of wood that remained stuck in the air, one metre above the Earth, some steps away from him. Hesitantly, the wolf advanced toward the rod and smelled it. It seemed normal. But when Remus went to bit into it, the thing escaped the grasp with ease. He growled at it and jumped but the moving rod was quicker. Excited, the wolf ran after it in circles, always approaching it to touch but never enough to catch it.

After a long time, sweating, Remus went back to Draco and lied down at his feet. The boy smiled at his victory and accioed the rod back. At the spell's name, the wolf's ears quivered. It eyed the wand with care and, as Draco was going to stow it in his interior pocket, Remus grasped it and ran.

"Hey!" Draco complained. "That's my wand!"

But as an answer, the wolf whirled over and stared at him, malice in his golden eyes.

"Fine!" accepted Draco, "You want to play this game…" He searched for Remus' wand in his pocket, then remembered that he had left it in his robe, inside the cave. He marched to it, but the rapid wolf cut his way, his tail balancing swiftly.

They observed one another for a time and suddenly, Draco launched on the wolf… only to crash on the floor.

"Ouch…" He massaged his sides. The wolf was sitting some meters away, the gleam of fun never quitting him. "I'll catch you… Even if it takes me the night, I'll catch you…"

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**Wednesday, August the 5th **

The door to Dumbledore's office opened brutally and banged the wall.

"Albus!" called Madame Pomfrey, followed by a calm Severus, "Is Remus here?"

The headmaster raised his head from the Ministry's papers he was examining and considered the question. "No. Didn't he come to see you?"

"He didn't, that is what I'm astonished at. Usually, he would have passed by the Infirmary an hour ago."

Dumbledore hummed. "Maybe; did he go directly to Grimmauld?" He cast floo-powder in the fireplace and met with Molly, who had a pack of the same powder in hand.

"Professor!" she almost shouted in surprise. "I was just about to call you because Remus still isn't here, and he had said yesterday that he wouldn't remain long in Hogwarts after his transformation."

Behind her, many worried faces could be seen, among them: her husband, Hermione and Mad-Eye Moody that was to have a meeting with Arthur Weasley in the morning. The others still were sleeping for, despite the already raised sun, it was still early in the morning.

"Come then," advised Dumbledore. "We're going to the Shack." The old man was frowning. The previous day, he had felt Draco entering Hogwarts and directing toward the Whomping Willow. He hadn't given it much attention since Draco already was aware of Remus' nature. Had there been a problem anyway?

They all headed to the Shrieking Shack and penetrated it. There was no one. In a corner, clothes were scattered on the floor. Molly recognised Remus', alongside with robes she didn't know. In them was Lupin's wand.

"Could he have been surprised by death-eaters?" inquired Moody darkly.

"No," calmed Dumbledore, "The robes and wand wouldn't have been let here." Besides, the cloth was of the finest material and ought to cost a lot. It had to be Draco's. But then, where were they? Had they gone out? Had Remus escaped during the night? Dumbledore didn't complain with the wolf exiting this place, he rather feared for his safety. Were-wolves weren't given chances: if one was seen, it was killed. Still, he wasn't much stressed: he believed that he would have felt it, had one of them been in danger.

Unseen, the headmaster cast a minor spell on the place and followed the magical trace of Draco and Remus out. They marched a minute, reached the woods, and at the border, they saw the boy, leaning against a tree. Remus was lying naked on the floor, his head resting on Draco's lap. Dumbledore smiled. Surely had they gone out, had fallen asleep and had been surprised by the day without having realised it yet. He took one more step toward them and cast a cloth-covering spell on Remus, just as Moody took out his wand and petrified Draco.

"Mad-Eye!" reproached Madame Pomfrey, "I know you don't like his father, but it isn't a reason to hex him, particularly in his sleep!"

"Maybe, but THIS is!" The man bent on Draco and grasped his left arm, raising and exposing it to everyone's view. The dark mark was burning on it.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq**

Draco awoke in a room, watched by many people that looked at him with surprise, disdain or anger. He tried to move, but found himself restrained by magical bonds. At that moment, Dumbledore entered with Remus. The professor immediately went to the bed, his face torn with dolour and sadness. He looked at Draco, as the boy didn't move, whether because he didn't understand at all or understood too well.

"Draco, tell them this is all madness," almost begged Remus.

"What is madness?" asked Draco back.

"This mark!" shouted Lupin, "You didn't have it yesterday! Who put it on you?"

"Oh… The mark…" Draco seemed to remember, "Yes, I had it then." At Remus' bewildered and horrified face, he smirked. "What did you think, professor: that I had become good all of a sudden?"

Farther away, the tight group that formed the Weasley parents, Hermione and Mad-Eye eyed the scene with mixed feelings. It was true that they hadn't seen Draco for the two past months, but had he changed to the point of associating with their enemy? This enemy, which he had protected some of them from? None of them could remember Draco's arm from before. Had there already been a mark? Mrs. Weasley regarded the boy and his arm with disgust. A death-eater had almost been accepted into their inner circle, putting them all in danger. The presence of Lucius Malfoy already tarnished them enough…

Despite the situation, the auror beamed: he had been right. From the moment Malfoy had come to help them at the Order, he had often counselled Dumbledore to use Veritaserum on the entire family. The headmaster had refused every time. And here were the results. Hopefully, the boy hadn't known about the Order. The others were sceptical: they had given Draco a chance; he had refused it. The Malfoys was a rotten family. Talking about the Malfoys…

Lucius stormed in the room, run after by Snape who had been entrusted with calling the man. Malfoy charged to the bed and wrung Draco's arm so that he could see the mark clearly. "What is that?" he asked accusingly.

"That?" repeated the boy, smirking still, "But it is the dark mark of Voldemort. Aren't you proud, daddy?" he insisted on the last word with amusement.

"Since when?" inquired the man, fuming, and twisting the smaller arm with a force engendered by anger.

"Oh, not that long. It's pretty recent. More exactly, it dates from one of these days when you hadn't the lesser idea of where your own son was. But after all, my lord and master said it: he knows more of me than you ever did or will."

The slap echoed in the complete room and when Lucius' hand retired, Draco's cheek still bore the red mark of his father's fingers.

"Stop that!" ordered Lupin, authoritative as he rarely was. "This is completely absurd! This mark wasn't there yesterday; I could swear it. Severus, he told me you had worked with him on the Wolfsbane recently. Had he got it yet?"

Snape frowned. "I haven't heard of him for the past month…" he revealed.

All eyed Draco once more. The boy had never stopped smirking all through the exchanges. Remus went back to the bed and sat next Draco, extended the arm and massaged his cheek. "I don't think you faked it yesterday, for I would have scented it. What are you trying to accomplish, Draco?" he inquired softly.

The audience didn't know what 'yesterday' referred to. Only Dumbledore had been informed of the night's events. The potion was perfect; it had allowed Remus to conserve his total capacities of reflection, without destroying the wolf's instincts.

"I don't know. Ask the traitor, maybe will he have an idea."

Two persons in the room could be qualified of traitors: they were Lucius and Severus. Considering that Draco had already talked with his father, he surely mentioned the later. Remus turned to the Potions Master, who had a lost face. The presence of this mark on his student's arm was deceiving.

"No idea?" went on Draco, "Maybe you, Dumbledore?"

The old man faced the child intensively. One could have thought that he was searching the boy's mind but he wasn't. They simply looked at each other. And Dumbledore was thinking as quickly as his intelligent mind could. Draco hadn't been a death-eater a month ago. During this month, he had remained in Hogwarts for some days and worked with Severus in his lab. After that, he had disappeared. Then he came back, spent a night in a wolf's company and was suddenly revealed as a servant of Voldemort. But Draco was far from stupid. There were two possibilities: whether Draco had taken no willing part in his marking and was currently used by Voldemort, or he had desired to be marked and now wanted everyone to know it. Why then? He could very well have remained a precious spy to his master in the school.

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed sadly. "This is an important lesson you just gave me, Draco. I shall remember it and beware of whom I trust from now on." And he retired in a shadowed corner of the room, letting the others wonder. What had he said? That Draco had definitely betrayed them.

Mad-Eye advanced on Draco, his wand ready. "Draco Malfoy," he began, 'I arrest you for joining the ranks of Voldemort."

'See?' hissed a voice, 'You did nothing, you hurt no one, you just have this mark on your arm and they arrest you. Is this right?'

"No way!" cut through Lucius' dark voice. "The day you arrest my son is the day you go to Hell."

Mad-Eye raged. "Malfoy, you get out of my way, or I shall arrest you along with him. This won't be difficult. You're not much more than a released death-eater!" he spat with venom.

The two men stopped moving and the room became silent, none of them deciding to abandon. Behind Lucius, Draco sighed profoundly and addressed Snape, "Don't you remember what our last discussion was about, professor?"

And Snape tried to remember… Far away in his mind, a month ago… Draco had come to his chambers; they had talked about… trust… "We do have confidence in some people. We simply need time to develop it," Draco had then said… Farther away: "He sent specifically the vial to you, Severus, because you are one of the very few that practices both potion art and dark magic, and for he trusts you," had been an idea of Dumbledore… Even farther away: "How do you expect him to trust you if you don't at least have a little faith in him?" Remus had accused…

'Are you testing me, boy?' asked Severus' mind to Draco's eyes. And the blue orbs were sad for the Potions Master had failed a second time.

Snape sighed in mirror of Draco. He took Remus' previous place on the bed and eyed the arm. "How do you take it away?" he inquired.

"On my wrist, you can feel it if you pass a finger," explained Draco.

Severus did as he was told and passed his index on the lithe wrist and found what he had been searching for. His nails clawed the skin and tore a band of it away. Draco cried out as Hermione closed her eyes at the spectacle.

"Ha! Not so brutally! That hurts!" the young Slytherin complained harshly.

"Maybe you will learn not to make stupid tricks again," bit back Snape. In his hand, he was crushing the shred of flesh, but on Draco's arm, apart from redness, there was no trace of a wound.

Lucius reached the thing and grasped it from the professor's hand. He opened it wide. It was a very thin cloth or piece of flesh, and on it had been appended Voldemort's mark. He swirled to his son in fury. "You imbecile! Try that again and you're disowned!"

"Of course…" drawled Draco.

"Maybe," Dumbledore reminded to everyone that he still was present, "Severus, you could let him loose?" he proposed.

Snape grunted, clearly considering that the boy ought to remain locked for some days as a way of punishment. When he was free, Draco massaged his sore hands and feet.

"Well…" he said as he got up, "Finally… In case you're interested, I'm now aware of whom I can trust and whom I cannot. Your scores are not beautiful to the least." And he exited the room.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

Half angry, half sad, Draco made his way into the corridors. Of all persons, the only ones that had deeply believed that he would never join the dark lord had been Lupin and Dumbledore. A werewolf and a senile Gryffindor. His father had defended him, though… But how could he ever imagine that his son would join a man that wanted to kill him? And Snape… The Potions master had done nothing to stop Mad-Eye. He'd been disgusted by the sight of the mark, horrified that Draco could serve Voldemort. But what had the man done for twenty years! And he dared reproach it!

Of course it had all been a test, for Draco wanted to study the action of the mark on the body and spirit of his bearer, but their reactions were instructive. The boy had expected his professor to try protecting him, or accept his choice, not to… remain frozen.

Draco passed the exterior door and headed for the forest path. Maybe walking to Hogsmeade would be enough to calm him. He'd never thought that a simple reaction, or rather lack of reaction, from Snape could affect him so. He was a Slytherin; he didn't care what people thought of him. Did he? He cursed out loud. He had been sure of it: stupidity was contagious; he was turning into a Gryffindor.

Draco stopped suddenly and looked around him. He was at Hogwarts' border. Why was there a teenage boy leaning against a tree? It was the Holidays; students were supposed to be away. He was an exception and planned to remedy the situation quickly, but for now, the presence of this boy disturbed him. Draco took some more steps toward him and observed him.

It was the first time that Draco came upon the teenager. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping. He was dressed in Hogwarts' uniform and bore the head boy's insignia. It was strange. Weren't the head boy and girl chosen just a week before the beginning of term? Besides, Draco truly didn't recognise him, and the professors couldn't choose a transfer student for that post! Moreover, the head boy would be Potter; it was forced; so that the Gryffindor Golden boy could add this to his curriculum. It will look beautiful on his grave.

Feeling the look over him, the boy redressed his head in a rush and stared at Draco. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes lost, surprised, distressed and happy at the same time. They observed one another, judging each other. After a more attentive exam, the teenager reminded Draco of someone, but the resemblance with this particular person rather unnerved him. The boy reminded him of Potter.

"Who are you?" Draco asked to break the silence. He was in a hurry to leave Hogwarts, but such a strange event couldn't was curious, and he was a curious child by nature.

The black eyes of the teenager enlarged with astonishment. "You can see me?" he murmured.

Draco sighed. What had he been thinking? A strange event and Potter not here to see it… It couldn't be so good… Draco had to discover an imbecile. "Of course I can see you. You're not transparent!"

The boy didn't listen and was still staring at him, his mouth slightly gaped. He seemed relieved. He got up and advanced toward Draco, who hesitated into taking a step back. He didn't know who this intruder was; it could get dangerous. But the boy only extended the arm and touched Draco's.

"I can touch you…"

There was strong emotion in the voice, and Draco decided that maybe there was something interesting in that boy's existence. "So, you can touch me, and? Many people can touch me without burning to ashes."

The boy grasped Draco's arm tightly and gripped it till he felt pain. His eyes didn't show any of the emotions they did before. They were angry and bestial.

"Hey!" growled Draco "Let me loose!"

"You will not talk to me this way, understood, Malfoy!" the boy hissed.

Draco froze in place. He knew his name! How stupid had he been? A lone boy at Hogwarts' border, someone he didn't know and he ran to him! When so many people wished his death, he played the imbecile! Draco took out his wand in a dash and sent the boy flying, then ran to Hogsmeade.

"No! Wait! Come back! Malfoy! You come back! I order you to come back! Malfoy!" the boy was screaming, hysteric.

But Draco didn't turn back. He arrived at Hogsmeade's common fireplace, tired and sweating, and traversed it. Finally in his room, he stopped to catch his failing breath; exhausted, he dropped on his bed. He couldn't remember running so fast in his life. Who had the boy been? A Polyjuiced auror or a death-eater?

In a daze, Draco heard his door opening and turned his head to see who was the newcomer. It was his father. Lucius was angry, probably at Draco's performance earlier on, but his son's appearance soon changed his mind.

"What happened?" he asked, slightly unwanted worry piercing through his voice. As he admitted easily enough, he was concerned over his son's security. This new alliance that had been forced upon him wasn't less dangerous that it had been to serve Voldemort. On the contrary. And what with Draco's new independence, Lucius deeply feared for his son's safety.

"Nothing important," growled the boy who turned his head so that he didn't look at his father anymore.

Lucius' blood boiled. It was the third time this day that Draco disrespected him. If the child imagined he could behave as he desired, he was dreaming. Lucius marched to the bed and grasped his arm, before staring at it. The paleness of it brought out the red print of fingers. It hadn't been there when in Hogwarts' room!

"Who did that?" he inquired, this time truly worried.

Draco sighed and eyed his father. "A guy at Hogwarts. I had never seen him. He didn't seem too dangerous though. He had no wand." Or so Draco suspected. If he had, the teenager could have tried stopping him from running, but he hadn't, that means that he couldn't.

"Inside Hogwarts?" repeated Lucius, eyebrows frowned. Shouldn't Dumbledore feel it if an enemy penetrated the school's grounds?

"Well… not really… we were at the border," admitted Draco. He was at fault there. He was aware of the danger outside; he should have used the school's floo-network rather than walk to Hogsmeade. But he had been angry at the time and hadn't thought accordingly of prudence.

Lucius nodded. He would have to warn Dumbledore that Hogwarts' wards were lacking strength. But this thought was put aside as he noticed another red tint on his son's skin. The boy's cheek still bore the mark of his father's slap. Lucius sighed. Draco's skin tone was too pale for a boy of his age and during this season. He wouldn't be allowed near the lab for days, till he had spent enough time outside under the sun.

"Draco, I want an explanation."

Draco contracted. He had sensed it coming… "I wanted to know how it felt to constantly bear someone's mark on your arm." He sadly eyed his father. "You really thought that I would join Him, after He had tried to kill you?"

Lucius thought to avoid the inquisitive look but fought not to. "I didn't put it over you…"

"But why? How could you think that! I… I saved you from Him! This would be stupid…"

"You'll remember that opposing Him was a stupid thing to do from the beginning," Lucius recalled.

Draco looked at the floor. It was right that he'd been adventurous on this… "How can I know when I'm doing well, if you don't trust me to do well?"

Lucius sighed again. What right did he have to reproach Draco's errors that he himself had done? To join the dark lord hadn't been a better idea… The man was mad, even if they shared the same view on mudbloods. If Draco hadn't acted like a Gryffindor, Lucius would be dead now. "I trust you, and you did well enough when I was away. Just don't play with my heart again…" Azkaban, his illness and the month hidden in a crypt then joining Dumbledore and his cronies had rendered it slightly weak. If Draco began playing such tricks on them, it wouldn't resist.

Draco smiled. "Promise." And Lucius was reassured.

Then the man remembered that he hadn't commented on Draco's horrible quidditch's results. Not that he could, given the state the boy had been in. Lucius had been told by Dumbledore how taking care of a dying man, working for his classes and bewaring not to be attacked by his roommates had exhausted his son. "And if you went outside to play quidditch?" he proposed.

Draco shrugged. He'd prefer going to his lab and testing a new version of the Wolfsbane.

Lucius saw the annoyed face of his son and smirked. Despite Voldemort's sayings, he knew how to handle the boy. "I'm playing with you," he added.

Draco's eyes lightened. "Truly?" he eagerly verified.

"Truly."

"I'm searching for the brooms!" and Draco ran out of his room, forgetting his tiredness.

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

The holidays ended quickly. For the first time in seven years, Draco had done his homework without reluctance.

Along with Potions, work had allowed him to forget that he wouldn't be able to play quidditch during the upcoming year. His father had forbidden it. Draco understood the reason, even if it broke his heart nonetheless. The past year, Voldemort had wanted his potion and services; now he wanted his head. And while in the air, Draco would be very vulnerable. It would be too dangerous.

At the exact hour, Draco was facing the Hogwarts Express. He got in swiftly and chose an empty compartment then buried himself in his new book. To an outsider, the book was of potions, as demonstrated the cover. To Draco, it wasn't at all. He had found this one inside the crypt long ago and had hidden it from his parents, for they would have taken it from him. It was relations of his great grandfather's experiences with daemons. It narrated how to invoke little devils that worked under your orders. It was highly dark magic that many had forgotten even existed.

The book was pretty interesting, even if erased at some places by time and humidity. A pity that no one practised anymore, or Draco would have taken much pleasure into conversing with him or her. This theory of underworlds was fascinating.

Before he knew it, they had arrived. Draco took a carriage in company of four Ravenclaws. They went to ask him about where he had gone at the end of the past year, but the death glare he sent them stopped any further chat. What with the Slytherins, he would have enough in his hands for the time being, no need to explain the other houses that he possessed the way to save their enemies from justice…

The feast was boring to the core, but Draco never came to notice it. All his attention was fixed on his housemates, on their every move. They were sending daggers at him, expressing clearly their intentions. Only in the eyes of lower years' students did he see some wonder. All weren't aware of the past months' events, just that Draco had to be erased from the battlefield. But why? What had he done to warrant such rage and hatred from the dark lord?

As Draco went to the dungeon, he passed by Dumbledore. What was the old man doing here? Draco sighed. If the headmaster imagined there still was someone to believe he wandered randomly in the castle, he was deeply wrong. Or maybe Gryffindors… Slytherins had long understood that when Dumbledore was somewhere, then something important had to happen there. Mostly, this something was bad for them…

"How were your Holidays, Mr Malfoy?" asked the headmaster nicely, opening the conversation.

"Tolerable." Draco had no intention of giving in to the old man's game, whatever it was. He may have saved his father, but he remained an insufferable Gryffindor.

"You may have noticed that we didn't name the head boy and girl tonight," Dumbledore went on.

Draco's head tilted. Indeed? He hadn't given the announcements attention. "And?"

"We thought long on it. By 'we', I mean the staff. You proved to have matured last year and to possess important capacities of reflection. Would you…"

But before Dumbledore could finish his sentence, Draco cut through. "No."

The headmaster's eyebrows slightly hooked. "Are you certain?"

Draco eyed Dumbledore with care. "Do I look like I'm joking? No, I'm not interested in the head boy post. Why don't you go and ask Potter? He'd be delighted."

This time, it was real surprise. "Boy, I'm trying not to play favouritism here!" Dumbledore commented playfully.

"You said I matured. Then I matured enough to know that I don't care about your head badge. I have better things to do."

Dumbledore smiled. The more Draco grew, the more he was distinguishing himself from Lucius. "Fine then. Still, rooms have been prepared for you. If you wish to go on with your researches, you…"

"No to either," Draco cut in again. "I'll send an elf to take back my belongings."

Dumbledore slightly coughed, "You are aware, Draco, that this year could be very dangerous for you."

"I am. But I'll remain in the dungeons." The tone was strict and decided. The boy wouldn't change his mind.

The headmaster sighed. He had vaguely wondered what Draco would choose: his security or Salazar's laboratory. Foolish of him to doubt: the Slytherins were known for their ambition. At that point, who cared about safety? Dumbledore observed Draco as the boy's form disappeared in the corridors' shadows. He was curious as to what the child would invent this time. He seemed interested by the Wolfsbane, but these many months of work hadn't given any convincing result. Surely he would now decide to concentrate on something else.

There was also the Azkaban matter. The headmaster had no idea of how many prisoners still were alive in there. But he knew that one couldn't expect good work from a forced Slytherin. Draco would gain nothing but danger out of this affair, so Dumbledore needed more cards in his hands before he could tell the boy about the Order and their plans.

Lucius had told him about this strange story: there had been an unknown teenager in Hogwarts. Had Draco had visions? Was it a new ghost? Or something else?

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

Draco entered the Slytherin common room and immediately spotted a bunch of them. It wouldn't do any good to be attacked there. The only one that could intervene in time was Snape and he'd be stoned too. Draco quickened his steps and went to his dorm. Nott and Zabini were his two roommates, for Crabbe and Goyle had departed for Durmstrang. Zabini was fine and remained as neutral as he could in the raging war, but Nott was the son of death-eater and soon to be servant of Voldemort. He was the dangerous one.

Draco showered and directly went to his bed, closed the curtains, and placed a repelling curse on it. He didn't want to wake up cold as the dead in the morning and had no intention of becoming a ghost. He was too tired to read tonight, placed his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and… opened them back in a dash.

He swirled to his side and caught his wand to point it on the newcomer. The teenager hadn't moved. He was sitting on the end of the bed. But he hadn't been there when Draco had wanted to sleep. Only an intuition had allowed him to feel his presence. Even now… Draco lit his wand's tip and looked more attentively. No, he wasn't sitting on the bed… he was standing on the floor and his body went through the bed…

"A ghost…" sighed Draco in astonishment. But then… "How is it that I can touch you?"

The teenager smirked. "That is exactly what I was wondering during our last encounter."

Draco frowned. "And your conclusion?"

"I don't know. I spent fifty years alone, imagine my surprise when I discovered that you could see me… and more, touch me! I am a spirit, not quite a ghost but not quite a soul either… So, what do you have that is so special that you can do what no one can?"

"If only I knew… Well, as much as I am interested by this conversation, I'm really tired and I'd like to sleep…" As the teenager didn't move from the bed, Draco went on, "That means I want to be alone," he insisted.

The dark-haired young one sighed. "Fine! I have all the time to elucidate this problem."

The teenager went to depart and Draco already had his head back on his pillow when a question invaded his brain. "Hey! What's your name?"

The spirit smiled and answered "Tom, Tom Riddle."

End of Chapter 3 


	4. Chapter 4 : Betrayal on all sides

**Synopsis**: The under-estimating of a person can lead to many problems, especially if said person is the Malfoy heir. But when a Gryffindor decides to give him a second chance, who knows what can result of the working chemistry? Remus/Draco.

**Thanks:** First, I thank my beta, Mariann, for her incredible work on my horrible grammar. Many thanks also to all who reviewed, especially to Romie, Dstrbd child and Spyder, whose addresses I didn't have, and couldn't thank personally. Two of you asked what would happen from Riddle's presence. There you have the answer. I hope you'll enjoy your reading.

**Note:** A demonist is a master of demons. You could compare it to a warlock.

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The Redemption of a Snake.

Chapter 4: Betrayal on all sides

**Thursday, September the 17th **

Draco contemplated his troll orchid, wondering what to do with this misshapen tangle of roots and how it could have been named after the flower's name. The thing was covered with mud, ostensibly because the marshlands were the most common place they could be found in. It didn't change the fact that it would take him hours before he could manipulate potions again: the weather was hot and the mud stuck like glue on his hands.

He glanced to his left. Longbottom was working on his own horror and, truth be told, he was dealing much better with it than Draco did. The Slytherin then glanced to his right. Sitting in a corner of the room, so that no one would walk through him, Tom was chewing his bottom lip. A reminiscent of when he still had the physical ability to eat, thought Draco.

Malfoy's sight encountered the dark eyes of the spirit. Since they met, Tom had accompanied him almost everywhere. Together they went to class, talked in the library or tested potion theories in Salazar's lab. Riddle had rapidly noticed Draco's new interest in demonology and had proposed to teach him some dark magic. From Draco's point of view, the teenager was more than 'slightly' versed in dark magic. He had even wondered what would result of a duel between Lucius and the spirit, had he possessed a material body.

Draco had so put aside his secret studies about demons, stopped spending so much time on potions and had concentrated on his learning of dark wand magic. He had many difficulties mastering it but it was worth the time. Had Dumbledore felt it? Had the old man discerned remnants of dark curses' magic on Draco's wand or body? Maybe. If he had, the headmaster had made no direct or allusive mentions of it. And, Draco was certain that, for all his powers, Dumbledore couldn't feel what was happening inside the Slytherin founder's laboratory. It was one of the reasons why he had insisted on remaining in the Snake's dungeons: it allowed him a liberty few could pretend to.

Draco still hadn't put his finger on what granted him the faculty to see Riddle. Tom had told him how he had roamed the castle for years, never noticed by anyone. What had changed? It had to be in relation with an action he had conducted recently. The Slytherin had first thought about his living in the crypt for a month: the presence of death around him could have awoken this skill. But the simple fact that his father couldn't see Riddle either contradicted the theory. Maybe then… something stronger, that had given him nightmares for months and which still occurred once in a while. If it was the case, he preferred to forget about it.

Tom observed the junior Malfoy working on his plant. As much as one could tell the boy was gifted with potions making, his ability in Herbology was much limited. Draco was interesting, a very observant and fast learning person… for the subjects that attracted him of course. For the others, he was obstinate to perfection like no one Riddle knew. But for these little qualities, he had two enormous weaknesses: first, he was eager to please, to be valued. Not by common folk, as many tended to believe, but by the people he trusted and admired. 'And little daddy would be so **proud** when learning Draco had followed him in the dark arts,' Tom savoured the moment Lucius would learn of his son's work in dark magic. The second weakness was his hatred, or rather incommensurable jealousy, of Potter. In his shadowed corner, going on with his uninterrupted surveillance, Tom's eyes glittered malevolently.

**o-**

_Draco closed the secret door behind him and inhaled the nightly garden's air. For now, his father was hidden and watched over by his mother but for how long? Aurors and death-eaters were roaming the lands, waiting for a faille in the Malfoy's attitude. He had to be quick… He headed toward the family crypt. _

_Since he rescued Lucius in Azkaban, the man's health hadn't made any progress. On the contrary, it was getting worse. Draco needed one full month to discover that the reason wasn't the virus anymore, but rather an illness that he had involuntarily caused his father. And now Lucius endured the consequences. The man was dying. _

_Draco arrived at the crypt and entered it. He had only entered it once in his life: at his grandmother's burial. The monument was as old, cold, and frightening as he remembered it to be. Gargoyle's heads were looming up from the walls in a menacing pose. Draco advanced deeper in the death house's depths. How many generations of Malfoy were buried here? Lying in dust, eaten by vermin? He paused a moment and focused on his task. He had to go straight to it, for time was limited. Finally, he arrived at the stairs and began his descent. A rat passed him. An odour of rotting flesh hurt his senses. His hand went to his mouth, and he ignored the lurches of his stomach. Thankfully, he hadn't had supper before coming. _

_On his left side, carved on the wall in golden letters was his father's name. On the floor, crafted rocks delimited the tomb. Ancient magic tradition it was, to bury the body directly in the ground. It allowed a more complete achievement of the bound with the lands. But such a lack of protection for the body rendered it very fragile, and Draco had already waited too long._

_He squeezed his hands in order to reassure himself and cast a spell on the floor to levitate a part of the soil. He deposited it next to the tomb and reiterated the process till he saw the body appear. He breathed deeply. _

'_This is a stranger, I don't know him… This is a stranger,' he repeated in his head, attempting to calm his rushing heart._

_Draco hesitated. Then he directed his wand at the corpse and cast a Wingardium Leviosa charm. But the body didn't move. His hands trembled and he repeated the movement. Again, there was no reaction. He couldn't concentrate his magic enough to cast this simple spell… _

_He shivered, cold sweat running on his back. Why wasn't he as strong as his father? Lucius would have had no problem with this task. It was so easy; he only had to make him drink the potion. The affair of some seconds… _

_The hole was deep and the atmosphere was getting heavier. Draco looked everywhere but on the coalface of the tomb. Some earth still covered the body, just enough to hide the vaguely recognisable features of what had been Lucius Malfoy. Draco's heart stopped beating as he slowly went down inside the tomb, careful not to fall. He took the vial from his pocket and bent over the body. _

_Something rubbed against his leg and he jumped with fright, head whirling to see what it was. He expired air he hadn't noticed that he held. Some earth had slid, that was all. He bent again and hesitantly touched the corpse's face. He shrugged in disgust; the flesh was decomposing. Closing his eyes, he forced the mouth open and heard a loud crack that echoed in the crypt. A bone had broken. _

"_I'm sorry," he said out loud, his brain too weak to think there was no one to hear him._

_He opened the vial and poured the content inside his father's mouth. When no potion remained, he sighed deeply. He only had to close back the tomb and go back to the house. In less than an hour, the body would have disappeared. He went to go back up when he stiffened and his hair dressed on his head. The corpse's eyes were eyeing him. _

A cry reverberated in the spell-closed bed. Draco was panting harshly, the nightmare too vivid in his mind, the memory too recent in his life. What was happening? He hadn't had this nightmare for weeks and it now occurred three nights in a row… He sat on his bed and fought down the nausea due to his tiredness. Should he try going back to sleep and risk suffering another dream? He'd rather not.

Draco looked at his side and noticed Tom, leaning against a wall, eyes closed. The spirit wasn't sleeping, for he couldn't; he was letting his mind wander. And that meant a new lesson ahead. Draco got up and shook Tom to awake him from his musing, and they went to Salazar's laboratory. Despite his headache, Draco was grinning broadly, imagining the moment his father would learn of his progresses. Lucius wanted to wait for Draco's graduating before starting his dark arts' lessons. But this way, he would already know past the basics. And maybe would he have time to work some more on demonology…

**o-**

**Friday, September the 18th **

Occasionally, it happened that Draco was early for his classes. It was rare, but this particular day was one of those moments when he had decided he would arrive in time for a class. He headed for Transfiguration, a class Slytherins had with Gryffindors. Little would be to say he was surprised to go past his father in one of the corridors. During the summer, he had overheard a conversation between his parents in which they talked about Dumbledore. It seemed the Hogwarts' headmaster had decided to use dark magic against Voldemort. On this, the Malfoy senior was one of the best references there existed. No wonder Lucius had to meet Dumbledore from time to time. What Draco mused on was the fact that his father was wandering the castle rather than flooing directly inside the office. He shunned the question from his mind and directed toward his father.

"Dad!" he called, grinning, "What are you doing here?" he asked when his father noticed him, more to have confirmation than information.

To his son's worry, Lucius frowned. Had some problem occurred?

"I'm meeting with Dumbledore," shrugged the man, indicating his disgust at the very idea.

Draco smirked. He had guessed well. But his good mood was brushed aside by the next question of his father.

"How much did you get on your last transfiguration exam?"

Draco cringed. "Two hundred and fifty," he admitted, knowing already what would come next.

"And the Mud… Granger," amended Lucius quickly, taking care of his words inside the school.

"Three hundred…" relented Draco with bad graces.

Lucius thrummed and made the same comment as ever on the situation, except that he skipped the part about the purebloods' superiority, evidently. 'You must work more, etc etc…' Draco tuned out for some seconds, waiting for the end of the lecture. And as he was no longer early for his class, he then took leave and went on his way.

He agreed with the fact that his grades weren't at the top they could be, but they weren't horrible either. No need to make a bad comment each time he had a new mark… His finger was stinging and he rubbed it to ease the feeling. It was with anticipation that he looked forward to the day he would tell his father about his dark arts' learning. That was one thing he was sure no Gryffindor would ever beat him at. They didn't do dark arts; Dumbledore had to be the exception. The old man was senile; he didn't count.

When Draco arrived at the transfiguration's classroom, he noticed that Tom was no longer beside him. Where had he gone? It was unusual for him to go alone, and he generally stayed with Draco for the day. The class began. It felt strangely disconcerting to be alone again, after two weeks spent in the spirit's company. Draco hadn't noted he was so isolated from his own classmates till now. But it was no strangeness: half of them were future confirmed death eaters.

They had to work on rats and morph them into pieces of wood. Another thing with no interest at all. 'How to loose time in a school?' Draco quipped. 'Go to classes'. He eyed his rat with an impression of déjà-vu. Then he remembered his dream of the night and his stomach lurched. He inhaled profoundly and tried not to think of his father's half-rotted body standing up again from his tomb.

A tapping noise awoke him from his reverie and he looked up. McGonagall was scowling because he hadn't begun yet. He sighed. It was so easy: he had done it fifty times the past year in detention. He pointed his wand at the rat and pronounced the spell. Nothing happened. He frowned. He had done it right, he was sure of it. He repeated the movement and finally, the rat morphed. Draco shrugged his shoulders. He must not have concentrated enough. His head ached this morning, as it had for the past three days. He would have to brew some dreamless potion before he fainted in class due to lack of sleep.

Since he was finished, he opened his transfiguration book to the next chapter, intending to work on it, but his mind refused to fix on the words. It went back to his encounter with his father. Lucius Malfoy practised dark magic on behalf of Dumbledore. Draco smirked. Potter would pull a face if he were aware of that! His index stung again and he casually rubbed it.

And what about Tom? Lucius had talked to Dumbledore about this adolescent Draco had met in the courtyard. The headmaster had come to Malfoy Manor and asked him some questions. As Draco hadn't known much at that moment, he hadn't been much of help. After the first week of class, Dumbledore had asked again about the teenager. What reason had driven Draco to lie about it, and affirm he hadn't seen the spirit again? He wasn't sure, but he had thought that Tom's existence was to remain a secret from the headmaster.

**o-**

**Sunday, September the 20th **

Some hours after Tom had disappeared, he had come back and explained he had attempted to follow Lucius. Draco had been astonished. Why would the spirit do that? His father was meeting Dumbledore and that was all. There was no need to spy on them.

"I have a bad feeling about this," had explained Tom, "There's something going on that we don't know about."

Draco flinched. They couldn't be plotting a direct attack against the dark lord, could they? It would be suicidal. On the Sunday morning, as Draco was working on the Wolfsbane he still hoped to bring to perfection, Tom went back to spying on Dumbledore. Malfoy junior smirked. Riddle truly hated Dumbledore! But the teenager hadn't disclosed the reason yet. It had to be very personal and two weeks of closeness weren't enough for such a secret.

'Ha, time for the aconite,' remembered Draco. The potion's base was delicate and the timing to be respected with precision. He went to a shelf and retired a phial. Turning back to his cauldron, he poured carefully the nine drops of aconite oil and observed their influence on the concoction. The reaction seemed fine, till he remarked a stain in the liquid. He frowned. What was that? He had perfectly made the base, there was no reason for this impurity. He bent on the cauldron, eyeing the thing with care. It looked like…a piece of flesh… He felt his stomach lurch and in a dash, he put his hand on his mouth and ran to the toilet.

When there was nothing left of his breakfast in him, he splashed up some water on his face and went back to the cauldron. The liquid was pure. There was nothing in it.

'Gosh I'm going mad…' he commented bitterly. The past two nights had been calm as he had made a batch of dreamless potion and used it. These visions surely were part of the secondary effects. It became urgent that he find a Pensieve. But one cost a fortune, and he hadn't enough to buy one just with his pocket money. He would have to ask his parents and then they would question him about it. He wasn't up to an interrogation on this… How do you announce to your father that you had to kill him? Maybe if Draco just talked to his mother, she would agree to let him in peace… for now. His father would learn of it sooner or later, and then…

It was this particular moment that Tom chose to come back, the face dark. "I went to Dumbledore's office," he narrated," I discovered something."

Draco waited for the spirit to go on. Why did he stop?

"You had something in demonology to spy on someone?" asked Tom, rather than continuing his account.

"Yes, the Eye of Kilrogg. Why?"

"How long does it last?"

Draco frowned. What happened now? "Roughly, one minute."

"Can it go through walls?"

"Yes it can. Why!" Draco asked again, stronger than the first time. He had to know. He had never been a patient person, what had Tom seen that he refused to tell? Did his father have a problem? No, he wouldn't spy on him but directly go to help. Had Dumbledore planned something against him?

"Then do it and make it follow me," ordered Tom.

Not bothering to groan and rebelling against such a commanding tone, Draco executed himself and voiced out the incantation. His body stiffed and his eyes went blank as a small orb appeared in the air. Immediately, Tom directed toward a wall, verified that the Eye was following him and traversed it.

They walked through many walls and students and Tom wondered how it was that he could see the orb. From Draco's telling, it was unnoticeable. But **he** could. Was it because he was a spirit, or rather because Draco and he were somehow linked? But it wasn't time for that; they had to hurry if they wanted to arrive before the minute was passed by.

When Tom had entered the headmaster's office, the first person he had noticed was Lucius Malfoy. Why was the man here again? Were they causing problems to his future self? Riddle had smirked. If only they knew what was coming on them… They wouldn't bother with the actual Voldemort. He had found such the perfect ally. Draco was malleable and possessed just enough defects to be manipulated. And just there, they had provided him the perfect opportunity to begin his work through Draco's resistances…

Only one wall more and they would penetrate another secret room of Hogwarts, one that had been remodelled into a training room by Dumbledore. Tom traversed the rock and waited on the other part. The Eye soon followed and Tom saw it stop brutally at the sight. Riddle could guess what thoughts were erupting in Draco's mind and destroying his trusts.

But from the laboratory, in his half-conscious body, all Draco could hear through the orb, was his father giving dark arts lessons to Potter...

**o-**

The minute ended and the Eye disappeared with a pop, unnoticed by the two duelling ones. Tom went back to Salazar's laboratory. Malfoy and Potter had played their roles for today. He would need them later on, but for now, the spying session had caused the expected effect on Draco.

The boy was crushing dried sleeves, impassive. One that hadn't observed Draco for two weeks would think he was perfectly fine with what he had just seen; but Tom had well used their time together, and he knew Draco wasn't fine at all. This thin wrinkle on his forehead, his teeth scraping his bottom lips, Draco was angry and afraid.

Tom sat on the floor, not even eyeing the sofa. He had enough of the floors, he wanted to have a mattress under his body, wanted to drink, wanted to eat, simply wanted to feel. The old fool Dumbledore had been right: there were things worse than death. And for his suffering, Riddle's vengeance would strike the man on his weakest point: Potter.

"Maybe he was forced by Dumbledore?" Tom proposed at Draco's intention, knowing the boy would understand what he talked about.

Draco pursed his lips more, pondering on the comment. "Then why didn't he tell me about it?"

"Because he didn't want you to know he was forced to teach Potter of all persons."

Draco whirled back to Tom with rage. "Why did you take me there if it's to defend him now!" he accused harshly.

"Because I was stupid. I wanted you to know what I had discovered, I didn't think it would affect you so," the spirit gently answered. In this moment, Draco felt betrayed; he wanted someone to talk to, someone he could partake his fears with. And Tom's eyes told, 'I am here; I am your friend, no need to be afraid of me. The others betrayed you, but I will never. They were stupid enough to prefer Potter to you, but I know they were wrong. Potter is an imbecile, and together, we will bring him down.'

In front of such comprehension, Draco didn't even have the strength to belie his obvious hurt.

"Is he better than me?" he asked with unease, his breath hitched in his throat.

"You know more spells than him," Tom carefully answered.

Draco needn't any word to understand the under-meaning. On the theory, he was up to Potter, but the practice revealed as his downfall again. Was there something he could best the Trio in, apart from Potions? He slumped on the sofa, fingering his stinging index, looking at the sky. This situation was despairing.

"Why don't you go back to demonology?" proposed Tom, eager of arranging his error.

Draco glared at him. "Of course, to give Potter the idea of studying it too," he spat the name with venom. What with the chance Draco had, Potter would learn of it and beat him at it, in complement of everything he already ruined his life with.

"He can't."

What? Draco stared at Tom with astonishment, hope gleaming in the depths of his pupils. "And why is that?"

"Because when he used strong dark spells, he specialised in dark magic. Now, he can't go back to demonology. It's a matter of energy," explained the spirit without going into details. It was no use: they didn't matter to Draco. What interested him was the fact that Potter would never ever practice demonology.

"And I'm not specialised yet?" the boy asked as verification, doubting such a good event could happen to him.

"No, we didn't practice spells that could determine your orientation."

Draco smirked. It was time for a lesson. But as he caught a book on a shelf, he remembered what had nurtured the conversation. It wasn't Potter; it was his father. His father that had decided to join Dumbledore and betray his son to bloody Potter. Tom was right, he ought to have been forced into them by Dumbledore and hadn't wanted to talk about it because of the shame he resented. Had his mother known of these lessons? Had she kept the secret from her son too? And Draco came back to the same question that constantly plagued his mind: who could be trusted and who couldn't? An image sprang up in his brain, and he was unsure whether to go to the professor or not. Apart from classes, they hadn't talked since the last full moon; maybe **he** would answer Draco's questions without lying to him? It could be tempted… No. Never would a Slytherin go to a Gryffindor first, even if said Gryffindor was a werewolf. What professor Snape could be doing? It was soon into the afternoon, he should be in his lab.

Draco left his unopened book there and went out of Salazar's laboratory then the dungeons, heading directly for the potions' classroom. Some minutes later, he arrived and knocked on the door. No one answered. The professor ought to be occupied with brewing. Draco grinned. Maybe could he help. He found it funnier to follow Snape's instructions than to work alone. The professor hadn't Draco's hesitations when it came to ingredients' influence. He had an experience the boy admired and desired to acquire from his teacher.

Still receiving no answer, Draco entered. As he had foreseen, he heard the characteristic boiling noises coming from the private lab of the professor. He traversed the class and softly knocked on the door. The dark human form, which Draco had got used to over the years, was looming over a cauldron, obviously wondering what to put in next. He hadn't heard the knock.

'Great! He's experimenting!' excitedly thought Draco. "Professor!" he called.

The greasy head turned toward the newcomer and a flash of a sentiment that Draco couldn't define passed through the professor's eyes. "May I help you?" the boy asked eagerly.

"Hum… I'm finished for today," Snape answered.

Draco's smile stiffened and he pouted. "Oh… What a pity… Will you work on it tomorrow?" he asked with hope.

"Maybe, but you have classes to attend to," Snape called to the attention of his student.

Draco sighed. He was the unluckier person on earth. But it wasn't what he had come here for. "Professor, do you know what my father talks about with Dumbledore?" he inquired abruptly. If he used subtlety, Snape would avoid the question, as he often did when it concerned the headmaster or Malfoy senior.

Snape eyed his student with care. What was passing through this brain of his this time? "Death-eater matters. And why don't you ask your father, if you're so curious?"

"He wouldn't answer. You know how he is…" Lucius Malfoy liked to brag to his son about artefacts in his house or some actions of the dark lord, but he'd never revealed anything that was truly important. The reason was: in his young years, Draco had been absolutely unable to keep a secret. What his father didn't seem to notice was that he had changed. Tom was the living proof.

Snape smirked. If Draco was thinking what he thought he was, the child was all wrong. Never had Malfoy kept any secret from his son because he feared that Draco would cause it to be discovered, but because he was afraid for his son's safety if the aurors found a connection to him. That was why the Order had decided not to make the boy aware of its existence as long as he hadn't shown a particular desire to destroy Voldemort.

"This is a matter between you and him. I have enough enemies as it is. I'd rather not add your father to the list," commented Snape with amusement.

"Fine!" grumbled Draco. If he had to confront his father about it, then he would! "What were you preparing then?" he queried while showing the cauldron.

"Nothing you should care about."

Draco frowned, and his eyes quivered downcast. So, Snape was keeping secrets too… What did they all have?

At seeing his student so down, Snape sighed. "I'm testing a new version of the Wolfsbane…" he admitted.

"Oh!" Draco's eyes immediately lit, "But why do you want to keep it a secret then? I could help you!"

"No, you stole enough of my inventions," relented Severus.

Draco grinned broadly. "You fear I'll finish it before you! Professor…" he reproached. "Why do you speak of it as a competition? We could work together."

Snape hesitated, then finally decided against the proposition.

"Ok then. You want competition? Because I also have a totally new idea…" said Draco with a wink, "Are you sure you're going on the right way? Maybe you're totally wrong about it."

Severus fumed. "You disrespectful child! How do you dare doubting my capacities!"

"Me? Never! I said nothing. It's you who said I stole your idea," Draco mocked amusingly.

"You want competition, then? You will have it! Since you think you are so intelligent, I defy you. The first that successfully prevents the transformation wins," challenged Snape.

"Ok."

On this statement, Draco left the classroom, his smile illuminating the place. But as soon as the door closed behind him, the grin transformed into a grimace. Had Snape imagined he would buy his excuses! This potion, a new version of the Wolfsbane! He could trick an imbecile Gryffindor with this, not him. Draco pursed his lips and clenched his fists. The ingredients Snape had been using tended to separate a mind, more the kind he used for his duplication potion. But it hadn't been that either. Raging, Draco stormed back to Salazar's laboratory and buried himself in demonology books. Tom didn't comment.

**o-**

**Thursday, September the 24th **

Draco yawned in his book. What hour was it? He looked at the grandfather clock. Four in the morning. He had to get some sleep if he didn't want to faint in his potions' class… Or he could send Snape to Hell and go on with his demonology lessons.

Tom also yawned in front of him and went on reading his dark arts book. Draco had spelled the book so that the pages would turn regularly. His plan had worked perfectly till now; it was time for the second part. He smirked.

In the morning, Draco extracted himself with difficulty from the minor demon invocation chapter. If he practised, he would soon be able to invoke little devils. Shuffling along, he passed through the classroom's door and slumped in his chair. He hadn't enough force left to look at the board. His head hurt and his stomach was taking strange turns. He should have gone and eaten breakfast before coming. Snape entered the class and by his voice, Draco could tell the professor hadn't slept much more. It served him right! To lie in such a way…

They had to work in pairs. He was assigned Longbottom. Great… The Gryffindor went to search for the ingredients and brought back many jars. Draco eyed some with care, verifying Longbottom hadn't brought back anything explosive. Then he came upon a disgusting one.

"What is that?" Draco asked.

"Dried toad flesh," answered Longbottom with care, surprised that Malfoy would even address him.

Draco shrugged in disgust and began preparing the potion. What were they doing by the way? He looked at the board with effort, but the script was hazy. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes then looked again. Everything was dark. What was happening? His breath sped up. What was this place? He scoped around him but there was nothing discernible. Apart… Some feet away from him, there was a slight source of light, on the floor. He staggered to it and eyed it. He froze on place. It was impossible; he was going mad…

Lucius was observing him from the depths of his tomb, "Why did you let me die, Draco?" he asked.

Draco's breath came out in saccades, and he grabbed his own hair violently to awake himself from this new nightmare. He took a step back and fell on the floor. The odour of rotting flesh was invading his sinuses and moving his stomach. He tried to respire slowly but his ragging heart and mind didn't allow it.

"Draco!" someone called.

The boy turned back to the voice and saw Tom. He was sitting on his seat; he had never moved, there had been no tomb. Longbottom was watching him with half-concern. "Malfoy, you should go to Mrs Pomfrey if you're ill," he counselled.

Draco clenched his teeth. And now he received advise from bloody Gryffindors. "Shut up and work." He grabbed some toad flesh and blocked the swirls of his heart at the sight. Half an hour later, they were finished. It was the quickest a potion was ever made inside this class. He asked for the permission to go and was granted it.

Draco knew exactly where he was going. To the headmaster's office wing. And he saw exactly who he had wanted to meet. If these buffoons thought no one would notice the absence of Potter in the Potions' lessons, they had forgotten who Draco Malfoy was.

"Hi, Dad!" he called.

Lucius turned back to his son. "Draco!" he said with surprise. "Why aren't you in class?"

"It was Potions. I finished early," explained the boy with a proud smile.

"Good. I hope you did well," the man went to lecture.

"Of course," Draco rolled his eyes, "I could brew it in the dark and with only my right hand. This is rubbish. Meeting with Dumbledore again?" he asked without showing interest.

"Yes, as always."

"Hum… Do you see professor Lupin sometimes as well?"

Lucius frowned at the strange question. "No, never. Dumbledore alone. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered," Draco pulled on his angelic face.

The senior Malfoy arched an eyebrow. What was his son plotting? A serious conversation was in order. But now he hadn't the time. He had a lesson to give. Leaving his son to his work, he strode away.

"He's mad to lie so blatantly," commented Tom.

Draco remained unmoving. He had thrown his father a line there, a line that Lucius had refused to take. "Of course, there's only Potter for them," he spat, directing quick steps toward the laboratory.

Tom smirked. "Only Potter… You're exaggerating… You're in their minds too."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Riddle hesitated. "Your access to Azkaban. Your potion. You're highly valuable to them."

Draco's heart moved anew and he answered sadly, "I see… So… What do they say about my potion?" His head hurt horribly. He had eaten nothing since the past day, but he needed to throw up desperately. He had to lie down. But the nightmares would come back. He couldn't ingest dreamless potion anymore for he vomited it within the minute. The ingredients were too harsh on his stomach.

"That it could be of great use to them during the war," relented Tom.

"And why don't they ask for it?" Draco wasn't certain he wanted to know. His heart ached. His father was lying, Snape was lying. And if he went to Lupin, would the man lie too? Draco didn't dare, in fear he would encounter deception again.

"Because they aren't sure of your side… I'm sorry."

"Shut it," Draco cut in, "I don't need your pity." He opened the laboratory and went to the cauldron. He needed to go away, to leave the castle and everything related to recent events for a while. He was tired and wouldn't find sleep in here. Merlin, how much he hated bloody Potter. The Gryffindor's Golden Boy always found everything ready for him. They all acted at his mere whim. Had he ever been refused something? Surely not. Draco had to go away. But before departing…

**o-**

**Friday, September the 25th **

"Albus!" called Remus when he entered the headmaster's office. The old man was sitting at his desk, working on some Ministry's papers.

Dumbledore raised his head from the parchments and waited for Remus to expose the reason for his agitation.

"I think Draco has a problem," Lupin declared his fear.

"Why?" Dumbledore frowned. What with the attacks of death-eaters that increased in quantity and intensity, and the upcoming confrontation between Harry and Voldemort, he hadn't had much time to take care of the other problems, Draco being a large part of them… The boy was the centre of many of Dumbledore's plans. His secret access to Azkaban and his duplicating potion could be of great use. But Draco was proud; he would never accept to work with Gryffindors or the Order… Despite what the boy thought, if he didn't declare against Voldemort, the man would accept the child's excuses, should he decide to join the death-eaters. If Draco joined the Order, it would be to possible death… No one could be forced into such a situation, and Lucius had made his choice knowing the risks. Draco still had to make his…

"He's inattentive, he's back to sleepless nights and his marks… he never had such a disastrous mark in DADA. I tried talking to him, but he shunned the problem. Could Severus go to him?"

Dumbledore sighed. "You're free to try to convince him, but he's spent all day on the potion for Harry. It doesn't progress much… I'd ask Draco to help if he didn't hate Harry so much…"

Remus gaped as he realised what he had missed for the past weeks. "Albus… Does he know his father is teaching Harry!"

"Of course not. His reaction would be a disaster."

"He doesn't know…" Remus was horrified, "But what do you think he'll do if he learns of it!"

Dumbledore froze. Suddenly, he doubted his method. It had worked with Harry. The young Gryffindor had strengthened and learnt to command. Why wouldn't it with Draco? Simply because Draco had no close friend left to direct his steps. He was totally independent… "Go to him. Tell him everything."

Remus nodded and ran to the Slytherins' dungeons. He had a terrifying presentiment. It hadn't left him the whole day, during which he had learned that Draco hadn't gone to class. Lupin had been occupied with the death-eaters' attacks recently and regretted it now. Draco was unpredictable; what if he had learned of something and didn't like it? Merlin, this sentiment that didn't want to go away. He had to talk to the boy, to verify he was fine. Remembering the password from the past year, he opened the wall to the laboratory. Draco was scanning the darkening sky, his left forearm clutched in his right hand. The place of the dark mark, Remus remembered.

Hearing him, Draco whirled to him, surprised. Tiredness was printed underneath his eyes, underlying them with dark shadows. His hair was dishevelled and his clothes rumpled. Remus would have smiled if not for the tight grip Draco had on his own left arm. Both of them were frozen in their place, daring not to move.

Draco looked at the newcomer, attempting to discern who it was in the brumes of his eyesight. His heart didn't want to stop his rushing course, and he had to fight in order to see past the visions of rotting corpses. He screw up his eyes and watched with attention. Lupin. It was the werewolf. Did he come to lie too?

"Your father is teaching Harry dark magic," Lupin revealed abruptly. He hadn't the slightest idea as to how to formulate it so that Draco accepted it well. "Please, don't join Voldemort because of that…"

And the formulation sounded so candid, that Draco erupted into laughs. "Oh, Professor, you're just so… Gryffindor… I already knew it. And I will never join Voldemort. Are you worried about me?" asked the boy with amusement. To hear the kind voice did him much good. Shadows weren't dissolving, but he felt better.

"Of course I am," Remus declared as if the child were stupid to doubt it. "Draco… I'm here if you have a problem…"

Draco smiled faintly. "It is not really a problem. I'm tired, that's all."

Remus nodded but if Draco had been able to see him correctly, he'd have noticed the frown on the professor's forehead indicating he didn't believe the explanation at all. "May I do something for you?" he kindly proposed.

Draco smirked. "You should be more prudent, professor. It is dangerous to make such propositions to Slytherins. Remember what happened last time you asked me what I wanted. You found a dying escaped convict inside the school…"

"And I don't regret it," recalled Remus. Draco was chewing his bottom lip with unease and the professor approached the boy. Draco shook his head and blinked before taking a step back. What was he looking at? His eyes were vague and he seemed to watch horrors. "Draco?" he called softly

Draco cleared his thoughts again. When Lupin had advanced toward him, his brain hadn't assimilated the movement and tiredness had made him panic. He inhaled. He had to calm down. Lupin wasn't dangerous. The man's hand touched his arm. "Draco, you're freezing!" He heard Lupin say. He felt the warmth of the professor's hand on his arm. It felt good. Lupin felt alive.

Draco's brain hurt. He needed to go out before he hurt Lupin. He raised his head to the professor's and stared at him intently. "I'm sorry," he said.

Remus fell in Draco's arms.

**o-**

Remus awoke in a bed that wasn't his. He looked around him and recognised Salazar's lab. What was he doing here? Then he remembered. He got back to his feet in a dash. Night had fallen. The lab was empty of life, the cauldron had disappeared and most books that he remembered were piled up in a corner weren't there anymore either. Draco was nowhere to be seen. Then Remus noticed a letter on the night table that reposed on two books and was addressed to him. He caught the lot and eyed the letter. It was from Draco. What had he done? He broke the seal and read it quickly. His heart stopped.

"Oh no…" he murmured.

He ran to Dumbledore's office, yelling the headmaster's name in the stairs.

"Albus!" Remus panted when he arrived, the two books still in hand. "We have to find Draco!" He gave the letter to the headmaster to read.

'Professor,

I'm sorry about the manner in which I treated you. I hope you will forgive me, but I had to depart quickly. Since you may be wondering, I truly knew about the lessons. My decision to go away had taken some days and you didn't hasten it in any way. As I'm beginning to know you fairly well, I don't ask you not to worry over me; you will anyway. I will be back soon and simply need some time to think. Besides, I'm taking a friend along with me.

I have a favour to ask of you. Will you reassure my mother, please? I wouldn't want her to worry either. Thank you in advance.

Truly yours,

Draco Malfoy

PS: Tom gives Dumbledore his regards."

**o-**

Lucius paused and sighed. Despite his hatred of the Potter boy, he had to admit that he was a good student. He progressed quickly and would soon be a good adversary in dark magic. The man hoped his son would show the same talents. One more year and Draco would begin his formation. The Malfoy family had always been versed in dark arts and this tradition wasn't to stop any time soon.

Lucius was slightly reassured that Dumbledore had finally become realistic and accepted the fact that only dark magic could fully oppose to dark magic. More, that what peasants called dark magic didn't forcefully involved death and pain. But white magic had been so widespread over the centuries that peoples had tended to forget about the good points of others.

Potter behind him, Lucius now headed for Dumbledore's office in order to have a word on the boy's progress. Then he would go to the Slytherin dungeon and talk to Draco. There was something bothering his son, and he couldn't let it be so. Draco had done enough in the past year, he needed to rest and concentrate on his studies. Then a choice on his place in the war would be in order but not before some months.

He entered the office and climbed up the stairs, Potter still following him. They had an unspoken truce. It didn't erase the tension between them. Potter hated him for what he had done to the Weasley girl, and the attack on the Ministry, and generally for joining Voldemort. He hated the boy… mostly by habit. Now that he had joined the Order, he had no true reason left.

At their approach, Dumbledore lifted his head from a letter he was holding. In front of the old man, Lupin was blanch, his face contorted in worry. Lucius frowned, and Potter immediately reacted.

"What happened?" the boy asked, used to bad news.

Harry didn't like these arrangements. Working with Lucius Malfoy was dangerous, whatever side he was on. This man couldn't be trusted. He had betrayed Voldemort because of his son. What if Malfoy junior decided the dark lord was a better option than the Order was? But the question didn't pose itself for the moment. The majority of the adults had declared that Draco was to be left in the dark about these subjects. They hadn't asked for Harry's opinion.

He hated the Slytherin, but he couldn't forget what Draco had been ready to do for his father. Were all the Snakes so devoted to one another? And this liking of the green git for Remus? It was highly surprising. Hermione had narrated the position they had found him in that day of August's full moon. Malfoy respected a werewolf. He had changed a lot, had matured. Harry didn't like him any more than before, but if he had to, he would pass over his resentment. Malfoy could be a great ally, and the Gryffindor accepted this fact.

But that they all excluded Draco so much from the war plot… Like Remus, Harry considered it a bad idea. He had hated learning about events in dribs and drabs his five first years. And Malfoy's temper was much worse than his was. The Slytherin wouldn't react well the day he learnt of what they had all kept from him. Maybe he should try to talk to Draco… Simple conversations had led Malfoy and Lupin to a relationship no one had imagined: trust. And what with the tensions with the Ministry, the side of light was in deep need of it.

Remus noticed them and Harry cringed at the daggers his eyes sent Malfoy. "I hope you're proud of yourself!" the werewolf hissed, "You wanted him in the dark, you succeeded. If something happens to him, I swear I'll kill you."

Lucius didn't understand what was going on. Who had he wanted in the dark? Draco! Had something befallen his son? He turned to Dumbledore whose face wasn't less worried.

"Lucius," the old man asked, "Does Draco know who Tom Riddle is?"

"What!" Malfoy staggered. What was Riddle doing in this? The adolescent had been destroyed four years ago by Potter. The adolescent… Draco had mentioned one… "Riddle…" he blanched, "No, he doesn't," he relented.

Dumbledore sighed and held the letter he was holding to Lucius, who caught it in a trembling hand. He skimmed through it in a dash.

Harry saw the man shiver and pushed an armchair toward him, which Lucius fell on, his right hand covering his chest. Before they began the lessons, Dumbledore had warned him about the precarious condition of Malfoy's heart. Harry had never witnessed it in person, but to see the high lord so weak was… disconcerting… He looked at the headmaster. He had warned them… Remus had too, but they hadn't listened. And now where was Draco? And what was this story about Riddle? His rage came back with the memory of the young Voldemort. But he kept silent. He foresaw that the following discussion wouldn't be agreeable, and he preferred to wait being alone with Dumbledore to talk about it.

While Lucius calmed slowly, Dumbledore eyed Lupin, "Did he leave something in the lab that could indicate his location?"

"I didn't look attentively. Books had disappeared, that's all I noticed. And… I took that; it was underneath the letter…" he gave the articles to Dumbledore.

The old man's pupils dilated with fright. "He learnt demonology and dark magic…" he murmured, horrified.

Malfoy breathed with difficulty, "No… I'm going to the crypt." He ran to the fireplace, cast floo-powder in it and traversed it. The crypt had been used for demonology long ago. If Draco wanted to go on with his studies, it was a logical place to pass by.

"I don't understand…" Remus confessed, "Why is it a bad thing to learn both?"

Harry pricked up his ears. He'd like to know too. Both demonology and dark magic were part of the dark arts. They were made of the same essence, why should there be any problem? And if there was any danger, he had to be prudent not to be one day attracted by demonology.

Dumbledore sighed. "I shouldn't have let Draco keep the lab. I'd have felt him practising and could have stopped him… Lucius won't find anything in the crypt, Draco is too intelligent to go there where he knows we'll search first. Sit down." He waited till professor and student were sitting in front of him, "Demonology and dark magic are highly incompatible. A human body possesses two kinds of energy, a life one and a magical one. If one practices only white magic, their magical energy remains neutral. But to use dark arts forces it to personalise this energy and the transformation can't be reversed. If you then try to practise another type of dark arts, it is your life energy that you exhaust. Should you not stop in time…" He left the end in suspense. If Draco kept on practising both of the arts, he would be dead within days.

**o-**

Some hours had passed. Harry was exhausted. He had remained in the office till the end of the discussion, when they had told Mrs Malfoy of the last events. She had been very calm, too calm, it had seemed to Harry. But then he had remembered that the woman had already suffered from ignorance through Draco's first fugue. She ought to have learnt a lot on her son's way of action back then. She probably was the most competent in knowing what to do next, and she had counselled to wait. Draco would reappear in time. Malfoy senior had attempted to contest the decision, but the death glare she had send him then showed that Remus wasn't the only one that blamed Lucius for this situation. Without much conviction, Dumbledore had sent them all to sleep. Harry had stayed some time more to talk about Tom.

_Flashback_

"_It appears Tom found a way to survive when you destroyed him."_

_That was what he had understood from the conversations. He had learnt that during the past year, that it paid more to wait, observe and ask the questions at the perfect moment, rather than rush ahead stupidly. It was his Slytherin part, he supposed. He had to possess one, since the hat had proposed to put him in the Snake's house. And he admitted that it did good to think before acting sometimes. _

_So, Tom was back. Tom that had tried to kill Ginny and the muggleborn population of Hogwarts. After their fight in the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle's body had disappeared from lack of energy, but, apparently, a part of him had remained. "It serves Malfoy right," Harry first thought. But Lucius Malfoy wasn't an enemy anymore, and Draco either. Such a petty argument would lead nowhere. He looked at Dumbledore with suspicion. _

"_Did you know it back then? That he could survive?"_

"_It was a possibility, as every other. But I thought his spirit had joined back with Voldemort's."_

_Harry sighed. One Voldemort was enough to him. To fight two… He didn't want to imagine that. But contrary to the others, he was very sceptical on the risks that Draco ran. The Slytherin was the most self-conservative person that Harry had ever met. They wouldn't be rid of him so easily. He smirked and took leave from Dumbledore. _

Harry arrived at the Gryffindor tower. It was three in the morning. Thankfully, they had no class today. He went to go up his dormitory but met with Hermione and Ron. When he hadn't come back from his lesson, they had guessed there was a problem. After looking on the map, and seeing him in the headmaster's office, they had decided to wait for the news. He narrated the last events and advised Ron to watch over Ginny. Who knew what Riddle was able to do? The redhead cursed the Malfoys. If they could all rot in Hell, he'd be happy. Harry smiled faintly. From his point of view, Ron and Draco had the same horrible temper but different ways to express it. Not that he would mention it to one of them… After a moment, as he was dozing off in the sofa of the common room, they all went to sleep…

Harry undressed, said good night to Ron and slid between his bed's sheets with relief. He bent to switch off the light but noticed a paper on his night table. What was that? He turned to Ron, to know if his friend knew where it came from, but the redhead was already asleep. He opened the paper and read. He frowned. That was a bad omen.

**o-**

**Monday, September 28th **

Draco awoke on the floor. He never saw the difference. Shadows invaded his sight, rendering it indefinable. His heart was beating slowly and his breath threatened to stop anytime. His mind… Behind the bundles of hatreds and resentments, there survived a part of what he had been, what he had thought.

He got up and went outside the cave. What hour could it be? He had lost his watch somewhere, sometime… He tried looking at the sky, but his eyes refused to function. The slight warmth of the sun on his skin told him the day hadn't broken long ago.

On his right, a shadow moved toward him. He screwed up his eyes to discern who it was but he needn't had for he had felt the bond that linked them activating. His little devil. It had the form and height of a six-year-old child. It was running, jumping around Draco as Lupin did when he wanted to play. But he was too tired for that. Hands ahead, he searched for a tree, found one and leaned against it. He had walked some metres only and was already exhausted.

How many days had passed since he went away? He couldn't remember. He heard Tom behind him but didn't manage to turn the head. He so wanted to sleep…

"Draco," Tom called softly.

The Slytherin moaned slightly to indicate he was awake.

"You should eat; you're wasting away…"

"I'm not hungry."

Silence fell again on the place. No noise could be heard. Life had left this part of the forest when they had arrived. Even the little devil, usually so full of life, had decided to lie down next to his master. Draco was remembering the days back in Hogwarts. What Snape had been doing… Tom had spied some more on them and discovered what the Potions Master had been preparing: a potion for Potter. He hadn't been surprised. What did they all do that didn't concern the Gryffindor Golden Boy? And his father… His father that had always wanted to bring Potter down…

"Even with a Nimbus 2001, you can't beat him!", "He bested you again!", "How much did the Mudblood get?", "You don't work enough! These grades are pitiful!", "We've duelled since you were seven years old; how could you be ridiculed in such a way!", "Potter won the match again, I suppose?", "Potter got chosen by the Cup", "Potter…", "Potter…", "Potter…"

Draco clenched his hands till they drew blood, hatred rendering energy to his weak body. His teeth were grinding. Tom bent toward him. "They all chose Potter. They abandoned you. They must pay. Kill Potter, kill him and they'll suffer as you did. Kill Potter and you will get your revenge. You have to kill Potter…"

Yes, he had to kill Potter. Potter had destroyed his life; he'd pay and all with him for their lies. He stretched out his hand, touched the demon and pronounced a formula. It disappeared.

"Potter will die!" Draco raged, "Even if it's the last thing I do, he'll die!"

**o-**

Some minutes earlier 

Harry opened the Gargoyle, paused a time to think, then mounted up the stairs. Dumbledore was running his wand over a map of Scotland, hoping to catch a trace of Draco's energy. But it ought to be too faint to be tracked down now. The headmaster lifted his head and looked at his student, asking a silent question.

"I had a dream of Malfoy," Harry answered.

Dumbledore left his Map for the moment and gave the boy his full attention.

"He was in a forest with Riddle and a sort of child. Then Malfoy said something to the child and it apparated inside the school. Malfoy died… The child killed me…"

For a moment, Harry wondered if Dumbledore had heard. The old man was staring at him, as if frozen in time. But then he felt the headmaster's mind knocking at his to take a look at the dream. Harry granted access and saw the dream replaying in his memory. When they were finished, Dumbledore sighed softly. "It wasn't a child, Harry. It was a demon…"

The headmaster called for an immediate reunion of the Order. They were urged to find Draco. Those who had been reticent about helping to search for the Malfoy child suddenly thought and acted quicker when learning of the great danger Harry was in. Malfoy had invoked a demon but had probably been too weak to give it a complete physical form. He would soon send the demon into Hogwarts and, was he to die, the demon would feed off his life, take form, and kill Harry.

"But," intervened Mrs Weasley, "Albus, don't you know of a spell that could protect Harry?" she asked anxiously. Ah, how she hated the Malfoys. They had done nothing but ruin their lives.

"Demonology hasn't been practised actively for centuries. I know of some spells that could help, but I never tested them against a true demon. I don't think they'd hold it back long…"

"Then there's nothing we can do… There's something I was wondering; how did Malfoy learn of the lessons?" inquired Kingsley.

Harry coughed slightly. He had enough of these two-faced persons. They took the information that Malfoy gave them and they'd let his son die without a second thought. But now, they would move, and they would help, and they would fear as Snape did. The man that had sacrificed everything in this war had abandoned his work of twenty years to search for the child.

A night in his sixth year, as he couldn't sleep, he had found himself in front of Snape's apartments. He'd been angry, hating for Sirius's death. He'd entered the room and stolen the professor's Pensieve. He had experienced the life of a spy. He didn't like the teacher anymore, but he now respected him.

"Riddle is back," he said.

The reaction was immediate. Dumbledore eyed him with slight reproach for being so brutal. But Harry wasn't ready to stop. "He survived four years ago and waited in the castle. He used Malfoy's isolation to manipulate him. If Malfoy dies, who knows whom he'll try to control. He'll surely go after Ginny first, as revenge…"

Arthur Weasley whirled on Lucius Malfoy, his eyes sending daggers. "Why didn't you destroy the book!" he almost yelled.

But the man was only half listening, reviewing in his head the places Draco could be in. "Voldemort has the book, but since Riddle took form, he can no longer communicate through it. It is of no use. Book or not, Riddle is a spirit. To destroy it won't change that."

"Then find your son! Have you no control over him!" reproached Mrs Figg.

"Harry," the headmaster called softly, immediately gaining the silence back. "Go to my office and don't move from there. Lucius, stay with him. Kingsley, order the aurors to make a search. We have little time left."

"The demon is here, isn't it?" queried Harry.

Mad-Eye stared at him. "You seem pretty calm, boy, for someone that saw his death occur."

Harry turned to him, blocking his mind, his face serious. "I never expected to live past this year. To die from Voldemort or Malfoy doesn't change much to me, except that I'll probably suffer less from the demon's lightings than the death-eaters' curses."

Every mouth was gaping at him, eyes sad of the little trust the boy had left. Harry departed without a word, followed by Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore. The man wanted to search for his son but had no idea of where he could be. He now realised how much Draco had grown apart from him. The boy had forgotten and saved Snape, befriended a werewolf, defied Voldemort, chosen potions and demonology over dark arts. Where was he now?

'Merlin, I'll tell him everything, everything he wants to know, just let him come back,' he thought when entering the office and magically sealing the door behind the three of them.

**o-**

Riddle stared at the form with satisfaction. Draco had played his role to perfection. He had been a disaster at dark magic but had shown much talent for potions and demonology. So few books were left of it, but he had studied them. Demonology wasn't a magic that could be learnt from a professor; each demonist was unique. He had read on gates and created a demonic one to make Tom pass Hogwarts' barriers. He had read on demons' invocation and had invented his own formulas.

Hogwarts was protected by so many wards that no common magic could traverse them. But demons weren't common magic and couldn't be seen by mere humans till said humans were attacked. They could apparate inside the school. They could launch at everyone and kill them before the others could react. Wizards had forgotten how deadly demonology could be; they had forgotten it even existed and didn't remember how to protect themselves. A demon revengeful, fed with his master's death, would be invincible.

Tom smirked and knelt next to Draco. "Your little devil should be watching Potter by now. The both of you will die almost at the same time."

Draco turned the head so slowly toward him. He had no energy left.

"You know what amused me most?" went on Tom, "It was your father. So proud of you, and so unable to show it. And you, that waited for a sign… You know, that day, if you hadn't gone to Snape but to Lupin instead, my plan would have failed. Lupin… The only one that would have revealed everything to you… But you didn't; you had to see a Slytherin first."

Surprise and hurt appeared in Draco's eyes. Tom had betrayed him. After his father and Snape… Why hadn't he gone to Lupin? The image of the professor passed through his head and he wondered what the werewolf was doing at that moment. Surely Dumbledore had felt his devil… His devil… What would happen to him? He was too far away and Draco was too weak to call it back.

"Why?" he asked the spirit faintly.

Tom went on smirking. "You have no idea, do you? No one told you who I am. That, too, was interesting to learn of. Lucius helped me come back and never bothered to tell his son what danger he had hurled on Hogwarts. But I won't let you die ignorant. My full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort…"

Draco stared at the spirit. Voldemort? How was it possible? He had seen Voldemort; there couldn't be two at the same time! "But.." he weakly fought.

"I am he, when a student in Hogwarts. We're the same. Potter kept me from getting a body again four years ago, but thanks to you, he won't bother me anymore. And as you so sweetly allowed me to leave the school, after I witness your death, I'll join my other part again and together, we'll destroy Dumbledore."

Draco was too tired to be angry and felt only sadness. He'd been all wrong. He felt his breath slackening and looked a last time at Tom.

"So you only wanted revenge, just like me. And we will get it soon… I don't hate you, I suppose. I'd have acted the same if you hadn't been there… I forgive you."

Tom's eyes widened. What was Malfoy saying? He had gone more maddeningly Gryffindor than he'd thought… To forgive him… It was laughable.

Draco's eyelids were closing. "I hope Voldemort will be able to see you…" he murmured and fell asleep.

**o-**

Some hours after being entered, Harry heard a noise in the office. Dumbledore and Malfoy also turned toward a corner of the room, jumping to their feet, wands ready. Harry observed them with calm, then also got up. The time had come.

In front of them, the devil appeared and launched at the Gryffindor.

**End of Chapter 4.**


	5. Chapter 5 : From the dead shall I rise

The Redemption of a Snake 

**Chapter 5: From the dead shall I rise**

**Friday, September the 25th, 5 o'clock PM**

Narcissa was pacing in her room, worried to death. It had now been three days since her son disappeared from Hogwarts. And who could tell what had occurred to him during this time? He could be anywhere, led away from his parents by Riddle.

For years she had asked Lucius to destroy the book or, at least, hide it outside of the house. Draco was a curious boy; what would happen if he came upon it? Would Riddle leave him in peace because he was a Malfoy, son of a death-eater family? Or would he take his life away in order to revive? Lucius affirmed there was no danger, but who could be sure?

And now the spirit of Riddle had come back and attacked her baby boy. She put her hand to her brow in desperation. The past day, she had passed her anger on Lucius, but it hadn't been enough to calm her stretched nerves. She needed fresh air. She strode to the window and opened it wide. Wind brushed her face, appeasing some of her fears.

When she had heard of the situation, she had ran first to Alayin. The old woman had been Draco's confident over the years, and there was little she didn't know about him. But this time, she had had no information either. Her sole counsel had been to wait. Draco was intelligent, and both women believed deeply that even Riddle couldn't turn him to his death. But with hours passing, Narcissa's faith faltered. Where was Draco? Where was her son?

And then she saw it. Away, looming from the horizon of the Malfoy's lands, a dark point was coming toward the Manor. It was Draco. It had to be him! Seething, she strode to the fireplace and called for Hogwarts. She reached the headmaster's office and eyed the three men, two of whom had a bewildered face at the sight before them. The devil was griping the lower part of Potter's robes, with no obvious intention of harm.

Every living being in the office looked at her with wonder. "There's someone coming!" she explained. They all rushed through the fireplace, as the demon disappeared into thin air. Narcissa emitted a slight cry as the devil apparated next to her. But the thing was soon out of the house and running toward the figure that he also had decided was his master.

Lucius went to the still opened window and scanned the lands, quickly spotting the growing form. He frowned. There was a problem; it wasn't the form of a walking person… He followed the demon out and went to whom they all believed was his son.

When they reached the coming people, they were only some dozens of metres away from the Manor. They froze in place. It was Draco, but… his body was slowly being carried, bent over someone they couldn't see but could guess was exhausted, by the trudging pace the corpse of Draco was advancing at. The boy was unconscious, face skinny and ghostly from lack of food and sleep. He didn't seem to be breathing anymore.

Lucius caught his son in his arms and ran to the Manor while his wife opened the door to the nearest room. They had to hide him quickly. If an outsider learnt of Draco's work in demonology, he would be in great danger of the aurors whom still had there spying spells active. Dumbledore observed the ground where he had last seen the invisible one that had been carrying Draco. But he detected nothing. In a corner of his mind, he put a note stating Tom's matter would have to be resolved quickly.

Harry took a phial out of his pocket, gave it to the boy's mother, then returned to Hogwarts to search for Snape and Lupin. Malfoy and Dumbledore wanted to ask Harry what was this potion, but before they could react, Narcissa had grabbed it and made her son drink it. Draco coughed violently, his body writhing spasmodically and his eyes opened wide in fear.

At that moment, Potter came back, followed by the two professors, and all surrounded the bed the boy had been laid on, while the Headmaster worked on Draco. Soon, when the child was calm anew thanks to a spell, Dumbledore asked all of them to get out of the room. Draco was dying from both influences of dark magic and demonology. He had to be freed from one before it destroyed him.

Hesitating, but knowing they had no time to find another solution, they all compelled and Dumbledore remained alone with the unconscious child. The headmaster sighed. "You caused us much fear, do you know that?" he murmured as he was taking out his wand. "Of course you know… You did it half on purpose, I suppose, to make us pay for our lies… You succeeded. I never feared so much for Harry than when I learnt of your demon."

And he began the ritual. When they had discovered that Draco had practised both demonology and dark magic, he had immediately gone back to some books he had noticed in a room of Hogwarts long ago. In one, there had been the description of a ritual of purification. It would erase every influence of the lesser magics that Draco had studied, letting in his energy only the one he had practised most. In this case, Dumbledore wasn't sure if it'd be demonology or dark magic.

Outside, Narcissa was still pacing, which irritated the others. They had all remained in the corridor, none of them wanting to be farther away from the place Draco was reposing in. As time passed, their impatience was growing and Lucius turned to Harry.

"What was this potion?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "If you don't mind, I'll wait for Professor Dumbledore to tell the story. There's quite a lot to narrate."

Lucius nodded, but their curiosity had been picked.

An hour later, Dumbledore was out. "He's sleeping," he said. Then he eyed Harry, obviously wondering, too, about the phial.

"Can we talk inside without bothering his rest?" the Gryffindor inquired, "I'm sure they'd all prefer to be near him," he wisely said.

"This can be done," allowed the headmaster, and in the back of his mind, he wondered when Harry's hatred for Draco Malfoy had vanished. He went back in and cast some spells on the bed so that the young Slytherin's rest wouldn't be disturbed by their presence. Narcissa sat next to her son and the others dispersed with good graces in the room in order not to asphyxiate the reposing child. The demon was nowhere to be seen.

Then Harry started his narration. "Friday night, after we heard of Malfoy's disappearance and I talked with Professor Dumbledore, I went to sleep. That's when I saw this letter on my night-table…"

_Flashback_

_Harry arched an eyebrow. It was bad omen when Slytherins wanted to associate with Gryffindors, he thought with a smile. 'Come to the dungeons and knock on the lab's door. I'll open to you,' the letter said. He smirked. "You ferret git."_

_Since everyone was already sleeping, he headed for the dungeons without encountering a problem. Using the same stratagem to enter the Slytherin's common room that he had with Ron and Hermione some months previously, he was soon obeying the letter's orders. The wall broke open and he entered the lab for the second time in his life. _

_Draco was there, white as a ghost, exhausted to the core. Harry sat on a chair and waited for Malfoy to explain his actions._

"_Dumbledore told you about my disappearance?" the Slytherin asked._

"_Yes, I came back with your father when Moony was showing your message to him." Harry wasn't sure that mentioning Lucius to his son was a good idea, but if he wanted Draco to remotely trust him, he'd better not begin the conversation with a lie._

"_So you know about Tom?"_

_Harry nodded, "I do, but there's something concerning him that you're not aware of… He's Voldemort. Riddle is his past self."_

_Draco was listening attentively to what the Gryffindor had to say. "I suspected something of the sort…" he admitted with a sigh._

"_You suspected!" Harry cried, "But why did you still leave then! And… Why are you back?" That seemed a stupid course of action. Voldemort wanted to kill the Malfoy child, why would he voluntarily go alone with him? And why the letter if he had projected to remain hidden in the castle?_

_Draco smirked. "I am not back. I used the duplicating potion. This half of me never went out. Now, hear me out, I don't have much time. This splitting is tiring my other half too much. Riddle is trying to kill me by making me practise two dark arts at the same time. I have a plan concerning him, and it becomes even more interesting now that I know he's Voldemort. Just now, I'm with him in the forest, and he's trying to convince me to kill you, action that I will attempt to perform. Do you have a Pensieve?"_

_Harry didn't understand fully what Draco was getting at, but he answered by the positive nonetheless. After Sirius's death, Dumbledore had judged it could be necessary that he possessed one, to relieve his mind from some dreams. _

"_Do you know how to create a false memory?" asked Draco._

"_No, I didn't know it was possible."_

"_Then... take that," Draco handed over a parchment, "It's explained. You will create a dream in which you see me dying in the forest and sending a demon after you. And here," he presented a drawing, "is this devil. It's approximately one meter tall. Don't care about the details; dreams aren't always exact. Then you'll put that false dream in your mind and Monday morning, go to Dumbledore as if you just had it."_

"_What use will it be?"_

"_Personal revenge. You don' t mind, do you?" Draco inquired with a smirk. When Harry mirrored him, the Slytherin went on. "While they're all worrying over your soon to occur death, I'll be luring Tom into a trap."_

"_Which will lead to…?"_

"_Weakening the death-eaters." Draco's eyes were shining, and Harry could tell his plan was scheduled to the minute. "Let Dumbledore decide the procedure to follow. It is possible that Tom come back to the school to verify the demon is really here, so be natural. Then he'll return to my body. When the devil apparates to you, don't be afraid. He'll hurt no one. At the same moment, I'll be on my way to Malfoy Manor, with Tom. I probably won't be in a fit state. Make me drink that then." Draco handed a last item: a phial. "If there's a problem and you can't find me at the Manor, Karnar will lead you to me. Karnar is my little devil," he explained. "Now I have to go."_

_The Slytherin went to drink from another phial and Harry was at the door, when he turned back. "Despite everything I imagined, I may enjoy working with you," the Gryffindor admitted._

_Draco smiled tiredly, "Are you certain? If I die, the demon might decide to attempt killing you, ally or not." And with a last smirk, he gulped the liquid and his body vanished. _

_Harry hid the phial, drawing and parchment in his robes. He had no fear of this possible death in the hands of the devil. He had decided some time ago that Draco wasn't a killer. The Slytherin wouldn't have sent a demon after him that would risk disobeying his orders. The sole danger in this story was if they couldn't find Draco in time. But the Slytherin had affirmed his demon could find him, should the need arise. _

_Harry pondered on this surprise of Malfoy. What had he invented this time? He didn't agree with making the whole school and Order worry over Draco and himself, but the secrets that Dumbledore was still keeping from him, especially concerning the last battle against Voldemort, were convincing him to agree to the plot. He had suffered enough from secrets. This would definitely stop these boastful adults from seeing them as children. There still was one person he regretted to see suffering. It was Moony. The man had long wanted to reveal everything to Draco. He didn't deserve the worry. And Harry was certain Draco saw it this way too, or he wouldn't have left his message to Lupin. With decided steps, he headed for the werewolf's apartments._

"You knew!" Snape yelled at Remus, whose eyes were downcast. Moony wasn't proud of what he had done. Besides, such knowledge had only increased his worry: to be aware of the risks Draco was willingly taking… This boy was dangerously turning into a Gryffindor. Or maybe all Slytherins were mad from the beginning. After all, Severus had served as a spy for twenty years; it wasn't any less hazardous…

Lucius went to make a well-chosen comment when his son let out a whimper and opened his eyes. Remus' participation was forgotten as their undivided attention was given to Draco. Harry was smirking. He was certain the Slytherin had been awake for a time and theatrically waited for the right moment to make it known. From Dumbledore's smile, he wasn't far from the truth.

What was real, though, was Draco's exhaustion. The boy was staring at them, screwing his eyes in an attempt to recognise them.

"Professor," he called in a raspy voice.

Both Snape and Lupin rushed to his side and Harry bit back a laugh. How could they buy such an act? When they were at arm's length, Draco reached for Moony's hand, grasped it and went back to sleep. Just like that. Lucius was still gaping when his wife shoved him out, alongside with Harry, Dumbledore and Snape.

"Since Lupin is watching over Draco, I'm going to bed," the woman declared, "Good night." And she disappeared in her room. She remembered Remus from their school years. The Gryffindor was the kindest person in England. Never would he let her son be harmed. Draco was safer with him than with everyone else. After three sleepless nights, she could finally appreciate her pillow. She would have to be present for Draco in the morning.

"Well… We should be going back to Hogwarts, Harry," recalled Dumbledore, "You have work to catch up."

Potter's amused face suddenly darkened. Work… He'd have to ask Malfoy if he had another idea to miss class. And school meant narrating to Ron what had happened. He'd probably miss the part in which he associated with Draco…

o-

Malfoy and Snape were left alone in the corridor, knowing not what to do. Lucius hesitated on whether to go to sleep or not. But he'd probably not find any rest, and what with his wife's current short temper, it was better if he tried sleeping somewhere else or, even better, didn't try at all. Severus wavered whether to go back to Hogwarts or ask if he could remain nearby, in case Draco awoke. Finally, the Malfoy lord offered a drink and they went to the smoking room.

They remained silent, each fuelling his wounded pride and heart with more reproaches. Draco had chosen Lupin over them. It was no wonder. Lucius' lies had already been taken to light by his son and probably, the boy had also been aware of what Snape had truly been brewing when the Slytherin had come to him. Why had he associated with Potter then? Why not only Lupin? Because it hurt more this way. They had all wanted to withdraw him from the first scene, by fear his hatred and jealousy of Potter could lead to fights and danger for both of them. But he wasn't a child anymore. He knew the difference between school rivalries and war matter. And he had proved to them he could work with the Gryffindor. How many times would they underestimate him?

They sipped the fine cognac, the fire cracking in the chimney. Their hearts were growing heavy and they were fingering the crystal glasses with clammy hands. When they were both finished, Lucius got up and served them again.

As they were having the sixth, their tongues were beginning to loosen and their minds to fuddle.

"Why did he do that?" asked Lucius, more to himself than to Severus. "Why didn't he come and ask? Why did he go with Riddle?"

"Because he went to you and you lied," Snape stammered back, "I lied to him… After the lesson he had given me with the mark, I was stupid enough to doubt him again, and I lied…"

"You can't lie to a Malfoy…" grumbled Lucius.

"And he chose Lupin. He chose the werewolf. He must hate me…"

"I'm his father. He knows I only want what's best for him. I lied because I didn't want him hurt…"

"We're two losers…"

"Talk for yourself Snape. Draco's my son. He can't hate me… He can't…"

When the elves came to rekindle the fire, they found the men asleep in their armchairs, snoring softly and murmuring Draco's name.

o-

Remus was left alone with Draco in the room. Since the boy wasn't letting go of his hand, and he couldn't remain standing the night long, he stretched out his arm to grasp the nearest chair and sat on it with a sigh. Draco had made them worry to breaking point. He didn't know about Harry, but he had been on the verge of going to Dumbledore each passing minute. And this idea of the headmaster to occupy their mind by teaching their usual classes. It had been horrible. He couldn't remember what lesson he had given… He hoped there hadn't been any accident after his departure. He had left his class in Ms Weasley's care. No, the girl was strong; she could handle the sixth year Gryffindor/Slytherin… He hoped…

Suddenly, he felt his hand being squeezed and looked at the boy. Draco was awake, staring at his professor. Remus smiled, amused.

"I thought you were sleeping," he remarked kindly.

Draco silently moved his head in a negative answer. "Are they gone?"

"Yes, your mother went to bed, and Dumbledore and Harry back to Hogwarts." Purposefully, he left out Lucius and Severus. He was beginning to know the boy well. Draco would ask about them, at one time or another.

The boy nodded. "You're going to get hurt if you sleep in this," he commented while showing the chair Remus sat in. "Come in here."

Remus choked. "Draco… You're resting. Besides, I'm fine as I am."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, and in the morning, you won't be able to stand, your back will hurt so much. Three people could get in this bed and there'd still be place for more. Get in," he ordered. As Moony still didn't move, he soothed his tone and smiled devilishly. "If you don't get in, I'll be annoyed and won't rest well…"

Remus' eyes rounded at the child's dare. He was blackmailing him! The werewolf sighed before taking off his shoes. "I feel like a mug," he muttered, half amused, half angry.

"No, you're nice, that's all."

Moony observed Draco with care. He hadn't known that 'nice' was part of a Malfoy's vocabulary. He smiled softly. Merlin, this child could make him do everything… "So, what is the real reason?" he asked. If it had only been a matter of a bed, he could very well have transfigured a cot.

The Slytherin's eyes saddened and he looked away. "I have nightmares," he admitted.

"I'll search for a dreamless potion," Remus immediately reacted, ready to get up.

"No," stopped Draco, "I can't drink them, they drain energy."

"Oh…" Remus lay back on the mattress and Draco cuddled against him. Remus wondered if Draco was truly a Slytherin. Maybe he ought to try the Sorting Hat a second time… No, Malfoy would kill him for such a suggestion… "What do you dream about?"

Draco looked elsewhere, avoiding the inquisitive gaze. "Can we talk about something else, please? I don't like this subject…"

"Of course," Remus accepted gently, "It was a simple question."

"I wondered," The boy quickly accepted the bait, "can you tell me what happened with Tom in my second year? I need information."

"I don't know much… You'd better ask Harry. Why do you want to know that?"

Draco smirked as his eyes glistened with malice and some sadness. "Ah… I'd really tell you if I could, but I don't trust Dumbledore with your mind. He'd search it if he knew I had explained my scheme to you. He's too curious to resist." As Remus hesitated, Draco insisted, "I promise you that I won't make you worry again."

At length, Remus gave his approbation of the secret project; he couldn't resist the boy. He narrated all he knew about the Chamber of Secrets' affair then, as Draco kept yawning, they switched off the light. And in the dark, a slight concern of Remus that Draco could truly hate his father and Severus was blown off with a whisper from the boy.

o-

_He opened the phial and poured the content inside his father's mouth. When no potion remained, he sighed deeply. He only had to close the tomb and go back to the house. In less than an hour, the body would have disappeared. He went to go back up when he stiffened and his hair stood on his head. The corpse's eyes were eyeing him. _

_His breath stopped completely and he remained frozen as the corpse was dressing. The half dark orbs were plunging in his and he trembled on his feet. In a dash, he whirled to get out of the tomb but was soon clutched in a tight grip and turned back. He struggled like the very devil against the living dead. The odour of rotting flesh was invading his nostrils, overrunning his mind._

"_You let me die," the dead man said._

"_I didn't! You're alive!" cried out the child, whose arms were bruising under the force of the grip. _

"_Why did you let me die, Draco?" the corpse went on, unaware of the child's answer, "I'm alone in here… Stay with me…" And so slowly, Lucius' body sat back in his tomb, taking Draco with him, as earth fell on them from the boy's fighting._

"_No… Dad, you can't! Stop! Stop! You're going to kill me! Dad!" As the corpse didn't hear his words, he launched backwards and punched the corpse, horrified at his own actions. He jumped out of the tomb and made to run to the door. _

_But the living corpse wasn't any less quick and he caught Draco's left foot, pulling the child. "How dare you treat me this way, boy! I taught you more respect than that!"_

_Completely terror-stricken, Draco struggle harder, but even in death, his father was strong. He caught sight of the stones that had framed the tomb, grasped one and banged his father's head. Lucius collapsed at the far end of the tomb, unmoving._

Draco remained sitting for some seconds, panting, despaired from what he'd just done. Only the falling earth awoke him from his horror. He crawled out of the hole and pushed soil back in it with shivering hands. Drops were falling from his eyes as he recalled his dead father.

"_I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"_

o-

**Saturday, September the 26th **

Day was slowly appearing through the grand window of the room. Remus had been awake for a time now and his working brain had refused to let him go back to sleep. There were so many unanswered questions, and their number was increasing without their resolving a single problem. But he believed some of them would soon be settled. Draco seemed in a more talkative mood…

He wondered what hour it was. By the sun, approximately eight o'clock. And what about his classes? He had to teach them… Ah, it was Saturday; there were no classes. Besides, for now, his work was to take care of… Draco agitated next to him, his breath short and rash, whimpering softly.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" the boy was crying in his sleep.

Remus clasped the boy in his arms and shook him with gentle moves till Draco awoke. The child sniffed, eyes still slightly red. When he was better, he disentangled himself from the professor and jumped out of the bed to rush to open the window before coming back to the man's arms. It felt good not to be alone after these dreams. He wasn't timid but such memories frightened him to no ends. He should really ask for a Pensieve, he needed it.

"You seem pretty fit for someone that was on the verge of death some hours ago," Remus commented playfully at the boy's activity. It was good if the child wished to clear his mind from the nightmares.

"I'm fine now; I just lacked energy," explained Draco. "Did you see my little devil?" he asked eagerly. When Remus shook his head, Draco swiftly pronounced some worlds of an incomprehensible language and a thing apparated next to him, jumping and bouncing with joy around his master. Draco caught it one time it passed in front of him and brought it to Remus. It was identical to the drawing Harry had shown him the very night of Draco's disappearance. The demon first seemed afraid of him, then, as Draco explained who he was in this strange tongue of his, it gradually lost its suspicion.

To Remus' amusement, the last thing Draco said caused the demon to gape as humans do and to stare alternatively at them. What had Draco talked about? But he couldn't ask as the little devil launched at him and embraced him with many purrs.

"Enough, enough," Draco laughed, seeing his teacher in a state of 'what do I do in such situation?' "Go and play outside," he ordered softly to the demon. Draco eyed the thing and Remus wondered if all demons knew how to open doors…

"You like him," Remus voiced his notice.

"He kept me company when I was dying," Draco explained carefully, making sure by a glance that the professor wouldn't ask more on the subject. "Professor… It bothers me to ask that of you but… could I be alone for some minutes please?"

Remus frowned. Why had the child invented this time?

"I won't be long, a simple problem to settle," promised the boy.

Consenting, the professor got out, slightly worried over Draco, and swearing to himself that he would rush back inside at the first suspicious noise.

When he was alone in the room, Draco glared at the air with scorn and criticism. "To you, now…"

o-

The past day 

Tom contemplated his work with a non-dissimulated pleasure. Draco had learnt dark magic and slowly begun dying. Then he had studied demonology and called forth a creature capable of killing Potter. Tom's plan had been perfect. Draco had disappeared deep down in the forest, unreachable from any of the Light Side. The demon had departed for Hogwarts. And then, there had been this sentence…

The boy couldn't die in silence! Why this sudden phrase? Why this unexpected doubt?

Tom remembered his first seventeen years in the orphanage, then Hogwarts. After that, it had been forty years spent locked in a book. In the beginning, there had been the current Malfoy lord, Lucius' father, to talk to him. At his death, Lucius had replaced him but it wasn't the same. The man was prudent and mistrustful of what Tom could do from his resting place. The spirit had missed the company.

Then it had been Potter's second year. He'd had fun with the little Ginevra Weasley and seeing his basilisk pet had been entertaining. Students had feared him like in the good old times. But Potter had destroyed his playing field. And he had been left alone in a world where no one could see him. Hogwarts' barriers had prevented him from going out and roaming the world. During four years, his only occupation had been to spy on Dumbledore; but without an aim for it, it hadn't been much fun. He had heard of his other self's plans getting thrashed by the order of the Phoenix. It had been disgusting. He had quickly stopped any useless contact with any living person.

Finally Draco had appeared. Tom had considered, at the time, the Malfoy heir to be a pitiful boy that couldn't beat Potter at anything, but some days of spying on Dumbledore had proved the child had changed. He now had strong resources and could hold very nice discussions. But Draco had revealed he could serve as something more than a pastime. He could take the controversial position of the cat. Potter would be the mouse, and he would be the Master. He had rejoiced in advance.

And his fun was disturbed by this bloody sentence! "I hope Voldemort will be able to see you…"

"I hate you!" he screamed at the lying body of Draco. "Rot in Hell!"

When Malfoy was dead, his demon would kill Potter, and Tom would join back with Voldemort. Maybe could he even shorten the poor boy's suffering, Tom sniggered. It'd be so quick… Draco wouldn't resist… He loomed over the unconscious body and grabbed it by the throat, then began to press.

'I hope Voldemort will be able to see you…' It echoed in his head.

"Rhaaa! Malfoy! You little shit!" What if Voldemort couldn't see him? What if he had done all this for a revenge that'd cost him to spend an eternity alone?

He abandoned the half-dead body and ran. Faintly, he could feel Voldemort's presence not that far away. He followed the magical trace to Riddle Manor and entered the old house. He crossed some death-eaters, sons of imbeciles that he remembered from his time in the school, and finally met his future self. He hadn't imagined that. He was so old! He was yelling after… Pettigrew, it had to be. What a flunkey! Yuk!

But he had no time to linger over underlings. He went straight to the new dark lord.

"Hey!" he called.

But Voldemort went on bawling the rat out. "Hey!" Riddle yelled again. "Hey! You! I'm here! See me!"

He tried hitting the man, without success. Fear was taking him and heat was falling from his back. Could the fucking Malfoy have been right! No, Draco hadn't known, he had only made a remark. How could he have been so near from the truth?

Riddle looked again at Voldemort and resisted the urge to break down. There was no one to see him… No one! There was only Draco… and the boy was dying…

But Draco had to die! Potter had to pay! And Dumbledore had to suffer! And then… then… he'd savour his revenge… alone… all alone… desperately alone… till he went completely mad from solitude…

In a rush, he ran back to the forest. Where was it? Where was the body of this imbecile! If he'd died already… no… he couldn't have died! He couldn't! He had no right! Ah… He was there… He leaned on Draco and listened to his heart. It was faint, but it still was beating. Malfoy Manor was some kilometres away; he could be there in a couple of hours. He lifted Draco on his shoulders then walked.

He was panting, gasping for breath. Why was he so exhausted? He was a spirit; he wasn't supposed to get tired. But his heart was beating faster out of the effort, and the tiredness was getting to his head. He couldn't faint there… It'd be so stupid, he caught sight of Malfoy Manor on the horizon; he was almost there. And then… life would be back as during the last two weeks. It had been pleasant. He could live with only one person to talk to. But he needed this one. One more step… Another… He swung on his feet.

Ah! People were coming… It was Lucius and his wife. Dumbledore was there too and bloody Potter. Tom would have raged if he'd had the energy. These goody-goody Gryffindors… They would try stealing Draco from him, but he wouldn't let them. Draco was his, and his alone. He didn't… share…

Suddenly, his body met with the ground. He tried to get back up, without success. Where had his energy gone? Why couldn't he move? His breath was short and rare. He was dying too. Was it a result of his strange bond with Draco?

He remained on the floor for hours, looking at the stars, slowly regaining his energy. Draco ought to be better. At length, when he was able to get up, he directed his steps towards the Manor. After a few attempts at discovering Draco in the numerous rooms of the house, he finally found the boy, being cradled by Lupin. Tom rolled his eyes. Such a good family, falling so low as to get rocked by a werewolf Gryffindor…

Soon, Draco awoke. But what froze Tom anew were the boy's eyes, when Draco turned in his direction, that passed through his immaterial body. Knitting his brows in suspicion and cold fear, he approached the Malfoy child as Draco was invoking his little devil. Tom held his hand… and traversed the boy's shoulder…

Staring wide-eyed at his own hand, mouth agape and voicing a silent plea, he realised Draco couldn't see him anymore. He staggered some steps backwards till his legs failed him and he collapsed on the floor. Potter was still alive, if not Lupin surely wouldn't be there, and he was alone. His plan had backfired horribly.

Going into a rage suddenly, he launched at Draco but went through him.

"I'll kill you!" he screamed with fury, "You bloody Malfoy! My plan was perfect! You made it fail! I'll kill you!"

But his blows were only touching air and progressively lost their force under desperation. He panted, exhausted by his outburst, and wondered one more time how it was that he could feel fatigue.

Draco was smiling at Remus, oblivious of Tom. Prostrated in a corner, the spirit experienced loneliness again. Since he had met with Draco, he'd never imagined to be alone again. He had been so caught up in his revenge that he hadn't considered that, maybe, there was a risk that Voldemort wasn't able to see him.

"… Could I be alone for some minutes?" Draco was asking.

Tom was sadly eyeing the only people that had been capable of seeing him. Draco looked like one of these goody Gryffindors, with his smiles and big puppy eyes. No, he was even worse. That was disgusting. It'd have been funny if he hadn't been so heart-broken.

But as soon as Lupin was out, Tom shivered. The air of the room became menacing and demonic signs printed on the walls. And Draco's eyes were far from nice as the boy advanced on Tom. "Now, to you…" he hissed.

Draco loomed over Tom, his hands clutching tightly the spirit's shoulders. "You tried to kill me…"

Tom stared widely at this new Malfoy. Draco was menacing, frightening, his eyes had taken a dark tint that reminded him of the black flames of his demon's pupils. And Tom couldn't refrain himself from wishing to disappear on the spot.

"You tried to manipulate me…" Draco went on, gazing straight into the spirit's eyes.

'Good lord Slytherin,' thought Tom, 'I created a monster…'

"What should I do to punish you? An eternity in the shadow world seems to fit your fault."

Tom's breath shortened more, if possible. Draco could send him into the shadow world? But then… "It was you," he murmured.

"What? That stole your energy? That modified your body so that you wouldn't be able to touch me? Yes, it was I. Interesting what demonists can do, isn't it? And when you come back, in some dozens of years, I may be so nice as to take you in my service. That is, if you haven't gone mad…" Draco smirked.

"I'll serve you!" Tom cried out suddenly. It was the sole idea that had come to his mind to save himself from the madness that would inevitably strike him during the long years alone. The shadow world was worse than anything that could be imagined. From there, all you could observe were shades; all you could hear were buzzes. No one conserved his sanity more than one or two years. Merlin, he'd do anything to avoid this Hell, even kneel to Dumbledore if he had to.

But to Tom's ease of mind, Draco took his remark into consideration. "You'll serve me?" The boy repeated, clearly amused and interested.

"Yes," confirmed Tom, "Just don't send me there." For now, to play the boy's servant was the least of his worries.

"Fine then," finally Draco smiled, satisfied by the proposition. "This affair is settled." He went to the door and opened to Lupin. "I'm finished professor. Thank you for your wait."

o-

Narcissa awoke and elegantly yawned in her bed. She extended her hand and met cold sheets. Narcissa blinked a few times and grew slightly worried at the surprise of waking up alone in her room. Then she remembered the events of the past day. Poor Lucius, she repressed a chuckle. She changed into her daily robes and winded her way toward the room Draco was resting in. When she arrived, she noticed Lupin waiting outside, stamping his feet with impatience and worry. She frowned.

"What happened?" she asked with care.

"Draco wanted some time alone," he explained, somewhat fearing the reaction Narcissa could have. The aristocratic woman behaved as a true Malfoy, haughty air and spoiling her only son. She seemed harmless. But Remus remembered how, twenty-five years ago, when they all were in Hogwarts, the Marauders had played a stupid trick on her. Childish, really, they had painted her hair in pink. She hadn't suspected Remus or Peter but had hexed Sirius and James into oblivion. You didn't mess with Narcissa Black.

She eyed him for a time, pondering on the explanation. When she seemed to accept it, he let out, in silence, a breath he hadn't notice he was holding. The memory of his best friends falling from the curses of this single Slytherin was still deeply carved in his mind…

Some minutes after, Draco came out. "I'm finished professor. Thank you for your wait," he said to the werewolf. He noticed his mother and smiled warmly to her. "Where is Dad?"

"In the smoking room, I suppose," she smirked. After so many times in life, she knew her husband's habits. And Snape's too, since he'd been a death-eater relation of the family. Effectively, both men were asleep, two half empty glasses on the consoles next to them.

Draco smiled kindly and brushed his fingers against his father's shoulder, awakening the man with a start. Immediately, Lucius lifted his hand to his head, moaning in pain. Draco laughed softly. "I have some Pepperup potion in my room. I'll search for it."

Before Lucius could react, Draco had reiterated the act with Snape. Soon, they were all sitting at the dining room table, two of them avidly drinking the anti-hangover potion. Narcissa and Remus were laughing to themselves at the men's uneasiness. Oblivious to their embarrassment, or rather too aware of it, Draco was wolfing down his third breakfast. When they were finished, he ran to his room again and came back, his pockets full of bags and phials. Their looks were curious, but they kept their mouths shut.

Draco had decided they were to go back to Hogwarts. Remus agreed with him, Severus and Lucius didn't dare make any remark, and Narcissa rejoiced in assisting her son's coming to power. They went to the fireplace and cast floo-powder in it. As Lucius was going to traverse the flames, Draco looked at him with sad eyes and a hopeful smile. "There is no rotten flesh or rats in here. You're alive and it's all I need to remember."

Lucius felt bad for his only child. He had wanted to protect Draco and had finally endangered him to no end. The terror-stricken days that had preceded had given him a very important lesson. He had made the same error as everyone else: he had underestimated his son. He didn't understand what Draco meant with this sentence, but it sounded like a pardon. And it felt good. He hugged the boy with love. Had someone other than Narcissa witnessed the show, they wouldn't have believed their eyes. Lucius was a cold man, he had done a lot of bad in his life, and if his interest lay in doing it again, he would repeat his actions. But his son was his pride and joy. It was the young beating heart that kept his own from failing. To be forced to remain with Potter when he should have been out looking for Draco had been unbearable. But the relief he felt when embracing his boy was his redemption. A pang of emotion ran through his heart and he thought that no one should have to look at their children suffering: they were too precious. And slowly, very slowly, he was learning compassion.

o-

As soon as dawn had been pointing at the horizon, Dumbledore had called for a reunion of the Order. The day was free of classes, and all children had rushed out to play. When every member had arrived and they all sat in the headmaster's office, Remus and Severus appeared through the fireplace. Sneaking a slight look into Lupin's mind, he found out Draco's masquerade of the past day. The ghost of a smile curled Dumbledore's lips. This boy was too much of an actor for his own good… 'What could Draco have been doing alone in the room?' he heard Moony's mind wondering. The old man remembered the way the Slytherin had come back from his fugue. Tom. But how had Draco convinced him into abandoning his revenge? Surely he had a plot concerning the spirit. Some seconds later, the Malfoys made their apparition, under the death glares of many persons. Narcissa wasn't there. She stayed at home, Lucius explained. The man and his son remained close, and Dumbledore deducted that they had reconciled. Which wasn't Severus' case, he noted. The Potions Master was as down as when they had departed for Malfoy Manor. Simply a matter of time; Draco wasn't one to hold grudges for long against this professor of his.

In the room, Dumbledore was feeling the demon's presence. All the signs were beginning to point to a funny séance. "Tea?" he proposed with a smile.

Mrs Weasley observed the entering of her two nemeses with attention and hatred. Never had the Malfoys brought something good for her family. But after a time, she stared wide-eyed at them. Ron had vaguely mentioned it, during the holidays, but she hadn't envisioned the full physical repercussions it could have: the Malfoy boy had been letting his hair grow long. His sharp cheekbones had smoothed with maturing, and his face taken a darken air. Had his father and him been the same age, they would have looked like twins. Some chairs away, Harry was the living image of his own father. It seemed like the Past had caught up with them, and it was frightening. Remus and Snape were still alive, Ron had replaced Sirius at Potter's side, and Hermione possessed Lily's intelligence and beauty. But who played Peter's role?

As she was lost in her thoughts, conversation had been advancing in the room. When she came back to reality, Dumbledore was exposing his plans. They had to take out of Azkaban a maximum of death-eaters; all those that could be won over and ensure their loyalty to the light side. The headmaster hoped that collaboration between Malfoy and Snape could lead to the creation of a potion that would prevent any apposition of the dark mark. From their views, this idea was realistic. What with Draco's anti-Morsmordre potion and Snape's work on a mind-separating potion, it would only be a matter of weeks.

Dumbledore was going mad. He wanted to let loose assassins. Did he fully realise what he was doing! Malfoy had manipulated him! There was no other possibility! From their looks, a majority of the Order was partaking in her ideas.

"Albus!" Mad-Eye suddenly interjected, "We can't release death-eaters without assurance!"

"Of course not." The Malfoy senior rolled his eyes, "There are cells for them in the Manor."

Kingsley snorted. "If the rumours of their escape spread, it'll be the first place the aurors will search."

"You searched the Manor for years and never found the catacombs. You haven't gotten more intelligent since then."

Mad-Eye clenched his fists at the insult. "I remember you weren't so proud when we discovered your hidden vault."

Lucius smirked. "I wasn't happy, effectively. But the objects you confiscated were newly bought; they hadn't that much power. I mostly kept them to train Draco. You truly thought I would hide highly dark items under a carpet?" He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

Many people present raged at the boastfulness. In his corner, Draco yawned. This reunion was boring. They were going on so slowly… Voldemort had the time to attack them three times; they'd still be here talking. Suddenly, his attention was drawn by a pulling down of his robe's sleeve. He smiled, searched for a bag in his pocket, took out a cookie and gave it to the air. Mrs Weasley gaped when the cake levitated. Seeing his wife in this state of frozen observation, Arthur eyed the air and had the same reaction. Soon, all sights were fixed on the cookie that was beginning to disappear, as eaten by an invisible mouth.

"You brought back your demon?" Harry asked, talking for the first time.

Draco glanced toward him, hidden emotion passing in his pupils. "Yes. He's learning human language."

The mouths were gaping at the realisation. Since the beginning of the reunion, a demon had been present in the room. A demon that could kill any of them. "Albus!" Molly cried out in indignation, "You can't allow a demon to roam the school! It could hurt the students!"

Dumbledore sipped his tea with calm, "No… Mr Malfoy has it well in hand."

"But it was ready to kill Harry!" reminded Mrs Figgs, "What if Malfoy decides he still wants him dead!"

The headmaster and the Slytherin child looked at each other. "You didn't explain, did you?" the boy asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "No, I thought there was no need. Obviously, there is… Draco never ordered his little devil to kill Harry. It was a plan to trick Riddle."

"Riddle!" yelled many, remembering there was this matter to take care of too. "Where is he, by the way?" "You said he had gone out; could he have joined the dark lord?" "Maybe he's back!" "Albus, he's too much of a danger, he must be destroyed!" The voices were mixed, echoing in the little room, growing into an incomprehensible rambling.

Dumbledore hushed them. "I don't know where Tom is. The last time I saw him, he was in Malfoy Manor." He ignored the muttered words that suggested the Malfoys were in league with the spirit to destroy the light side from the inside. "But surely Draco knows where he is?"

The boy nodded, his lips tightly pursed. "He's here. He's listening to you." All breaths stopped, apart from those of some that had suspected from the beginning. Draco went on, his voice perfectly calm. "He's sitting next to me, waiting to see the results of your little tantrums. Karnar is on his lap. Since you don't know, Karnar is my little devil, and he hates to be referred to as an 'it'. Besides, Tom is mine, and I won't let him be harmed, especially by you."

Harry screwed his eyes, attempting to see into Malfoy's mind. He didn't like that. No, he hated that! Riddle in liberty was a dangerous thing. He had nearly fooled Draco to death once; he could try again. He was a murderer and had to pay for his crimes. But the fact that Malfoy rarely did something out of generosity was almost reassuring. If he had a plan concerning Riddle, the situation could become interesting. Abandoning his mind scanning, he wished he had been more attentive to Snape's Occlumency lessons.

The room was completely silent, but Harry could hear the thoughts of hatred in every mind. At his side, Ron was clenching his jaw, teeth gritted, lips set. "You're letting him stay free?" the redhead hissed. He pushed back his chair and took out his wand. "After what he did to my sister!" He yelled. He pointed his wand at Malfoy. "Petrific…"

But before Ron could end his spell, the demon had taken form. In slow motion, Harry saw a thundershot rush on his friend and launched at him. They hurt the floor as Ron's chair was projected against a wall and crashed to bits. Mrs and Mr Weasley ran to their son's side, and Harry turned angrily to Malfoy, just as wands went out to point at the Slytherin.

"You said you had him under control!" he yelled, furious, "He could have killed Ron!"

But Malfoy wasn't moving from his chair and sighed. "Karnar can't kill an adult wizard. He's not strong enough for that."

Harry was flabbergasted. "What? But… You said…"

"I said that he might TRY to kill you. I never said that he could succeed. Moreover," He turned to Ron, "let me remind you that Tom attempted to kill me too, so I have just as many reasons to hate him than your sister have. I already made my choice concerning his sentence, and since I'm feeling fair today, Little Weaslette will have her word to say. But YOU," He pointed at Ron, Arthur and Molly, "will remain outside of this affair. I'm taking a walk; I'll come back when you have calmed down." And he went out.

"Well…" Dumbledore concluded with a smile, "It didn't end so badly, after all."

o-

Tom glared at the retreating boy. Draco had tricked him! He raged. He had bought this act of poor little abandoned child, when Malfoy had known from the beginning! But he had promised to serve him, now. It was too late to go back on his word. The debt's owner could only undo magical commitment. With no other choice, he followed Draco outside, at the forest's border. The Slytherin sat on the floor, leaning against a tree, and yawned again.

As he was closing his eyes, Draco noticed the killing look that Tom was sending his way, and he smirked. "I didn't know," he simply said.

Tom sneered sarcastically. "You didn't know what? That Dumbledore had unearthed your little scheme?"

"No, that you were Voldemort."

The spirit snorted, obviously not believing a word of what Draco was saying. The young Malfoy went on, caring not for this lack of trust. "When I came back from Snape's lab, I read demonology books. That's when I discovered what was slowly killing me. I was surprised that someone as versed in dark magic as you were wouldn't have heard of their total incompatibility and realised I was already specialised in demonology. I observed you for the weekend and concluded that you were aware of it. You were trying to kill me, alternating kind words and revelations on the Order's betrayal, luring me into a well-prepared trap. And they all helped you unconsciously… Monday morning, you went to see what Snape was doing with this potion of his. I used the time you provided me to drink some duplication potion that I had left, and one half of me hid in Salazar's lab. Then we went out. I wanted to make the lot of you pay at the same time. But I needed to bring my plan to perfection if I wanted to survive. I charmed a letter into going to Potter's room. It is him that told me of your identity."

"And Karnar?" inquired Tom almost unwillingly. His curiosity was getting the most of him. This plan had been so… witty… It was unnerving, how he'd been beat by this child.

"Karnar was to go to the castle as you had wished, but he wouldn't have attempted killing Potter. He was to bring them to me if my life got too low. He's my demon; he can find me wherever I am. But he didn't need to… You're strong and so intelligent. I almost lost this battle. But I'm not the only one who has weaknesses, Tom. And I know of yours."

The spirit refrained from avoiding the clever grey eyes. "You said it on purpose. You knew Voldemort wouldn't be able to see me…" The hatred and anger were still there, but his heart wasn't anymore. He was Tom Marvolo Riddle, the future Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin, and he had been tricked. With difficulties, he had got over his defeat of Potter: the Gryffindor had been helped by Dumbledore's Phoenix. But Malfoy had been alone in his last moments. The fact that Potter had told him of his friend's true identity didn't count: it wouldn't have changed the outcome. The simple boy had reversed this deadly situation to his advantage. He had discovered Tom's weakness and used it at a very good moment. Fucking Malfoys.

Still, what shocked him the most wasn't the set-up he had fallen in, it was this sentence: " I won't let him be harmed, especially by you." Malfoys weren't kind, or nice, or gentle, but there was such a protectiveness in the words and voice that a rush of he-didn't-know-what swelled his heart.

"I didn't know." Draco smiled at the wide-eyes that followed his declaration. Indeed, he hadn't been aware that Voldemort truly wouldn't have been able to see Tom. "But since Potter couldn't, and they're linked, I wagered the dark lord couldn't either." It had been a good guess. Anyway, if there had been any problem, the life-stealing curse he had placed on Tom would have definitely destroyed the spirit, and maybe Voldemort with him, as they're the same people. They'd all have joined in Hell. Not that they needed to know…

Even if Draco's life wasn't endangered anymore, a single night of sleep couldn't regain one week of complete anaemia. His eyelids were getting heavier and his mind blurring. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the trunk and dozed off.

'What is he doing!' wondered Tom with surprise, 'He's sleeping! With me here? I could try to kill him!' But when he considered it, his own mind denied him the act, and it wasn't due to the working magical commitment.

o-

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. If the reunion had gone well while Draco had been present, with no demon left to make the police, it had rapidly degenerated after the boy's departure. He had then observed the almost complete Order ranting on about Tom and had renounced intervening. Finally, he had had tea with Harry, Lucius, Remus, and Severus in a corner of his office and had immensely enjoyed his morning. Severus, on the contrary… The sight of the previously feared teacher had been harrowing and heartrending. Ah, Draco would have made many hearts bleed…

The Malfoy child hadn't shown up for lunch, but Dumbledore had felt him sleeping in the courtyard. Unseen, he had discreetly cast a warming spell of the young body: the weather had been getting colder these last days. Despite what he wanted everyone to believe, Draco was still weak. He should be more careful about his own health.

At seven o'clock, the boy awoke, yawned, and stretched. He had slept well outside, breathing fresh air. Dumbledore felt the child enter the castle, getting booed by some Ravenclaw students and not understanding this reaction. Of course, Draco couldn't know that, while he had been sleeping, the young Mr Weasley had 'conveniently' let slip the information that the heir of Slytherin was back. The Gryffindor hoped this way reactions of the parents would get Draco expelled. Ron naturally resented Draco; it was normal. Still the situation would have to be controlled. Dumbledore sighed. To send Draco away would be so very stupid and dangerous that he'd never do it. Fortunately, Harry and Hermione hadn't such violent and extremist reactions. They were more thoughtful.

The Slytherin went up some flights of stairs and faced the Gargoyle of the headmaster's office, probably wondering what stupid password the old man had chosen this time. Smiling, Dumbledore ordered the statue to move and give way to the boy. Some seconds after, Draco ventured into the office. It was rare that Slytherins willingly came there, and to witness one doing so felt like a relief to Dumbledore: he had never been able to help these children as he had wanted, mostly because they all were so engrossed in their parents' ideals that no conversation would make them reconsider. But this one had, which proved there was more to Snakes than an awful temper and an overweening arrogance.

Dumbledore smiled at the child's uneasiness. He saw the resistance to the urge to grip and finger his own robe's tails. A second observation made him frown unnoticeably: Draco was rubbing his right index. Was he hurt? And what was this weak magic Dumbledore could feel emanating from the boy's hand? He didn't know much about demonology; could it be a secondary effect? This matter would have to be investigated later on…

"Would you have dinner with me?" the headmaster proposed, the everlasting gleam in his eyes. Students and teachers were dinning in the Great Hall, and he supposed Draco had no desire to go down and face his peers.

The Slytherin nodded faintly, and they took a place around the desk that was improvised as a dining table as supper appeared on it, kindness of the house-elves. The child's face didn't show any surprise at being invited to his headmaster's table, but inside, he was all turmoil. The boy could be a nice one when he wanted. No wonder Remus and Severus had taken a liking to him. And Minerva was beginning to show a weak point for him: she had this tendency for people that rushed into danger… It was no surprise then that she was the Gryffindor's head of house…

They ate in silence. Next to the window, Fumseck was preening its feathers, glancing at them from time to time. As they were having chocolate dairy ice cream, the Phoenix raised his head in a start and watched a moving spot from the door to Draco's chair. Dumbledore and Draco looked at each other, the child knowing his elder was aware of what was going on.

"Does he like ice cream?" the headmaster asked with amusement. When Draco nodded, a third cup appeared on the table, and Dumbledore observed the child demon taking form, sitting on his master's lap, eager tiny hands grasping the cup and spoon then devouring the ice cream. He chuckled. Who would imagine demons were so dangerous when they witnessed such a scene?

After a time, Draco focused intensively on a point of the desk and nibbled his upper lip in hesitation. "Thank you…" he finally let out, "For what you did for my father and me."

Dumbledore smiled earnestly. It ought to have cost a lot. Draco was proud, and he didn't like his headmaster any more than he had the past years. But maybe the boy could learn to tolerate him, just as Lucius had. And for that, Dumbledore thanked his long-time friendship with Severus: for years he had observed the Slytherins' reactions and way of thoughts. He could handle one more… even if this one was a Malfoy demonist. The demonist part being more of a problem than the Malfoy one… Still, he was confident on the outcome of their relation.

"So…" Draco changed the subject, "What did you want with Azkaban's prisoners?"

Ha. The boy was willing to help. It was a satisfying first step. "Do you know how Voldemort gains power from his death-eaters?" Dumbledore inquired back. He needed to discover what knowledge Draco possessed, and maybe he would gather some more information at the same time. He was vaguely aware of the means used but had never been able to go through the whole process, despite the information given by Severus and Lucius.

The boy nodded. "The same way I do with Karnar."

That was interesting. He screwed his eyes in both appreciation and interest. The collaboration with Draco was already bearing fruits, and they had been talking for less than a minute. With a sign of the head, he invited the Slytherin to go on.

"He has to expend a large scale of energy to create the bond with a death-eater. The death-eater becomes more powerful by the link, and in exchange, he is to obey his master. Then, as time passes, Voldemort gains back his energy." The boy used the dark lord's name without apprehension. Voldemort was an adult version of Tom, and he had defeated the spirit.

"But how is it that some can betray him then?" Dumbledore was thinking of Snape here. If the death-eaters were forced into obeying the dark lord, why could some turn against him?

Draco smirked and the demon emitted a slightly dark laugh. "Because he is a mere dark wizard and not a demonist."

Dumbledore frowned in surprise. Draco had been taught all his life by his father to discover his enemies' weaknesses. Did Lucius notice how incredibly good Draco had become at this game?

"Dark magic consists in mastering human sacrificing rituals and all physical pain and distress with a wand. It never was a question of bonds. This is a demonist's and ancient magic's speciality. To use it still, he has to create the dark mark, and it can be countered. Also, his bonds are unbalanced: the power he offers is too weak in comparison with the obedience he asks for. When the death-eater's sacrifices becomes too high, the bond is weakened and can be broken."

Dumbledore laughed out loud. Merlin, this child was incredible. If only he could get him to work again with Harry… "This is what you want to do?" asked Draco, "To make every death-eater abandon Voldemort?" The headmaster approved. The Slytherin became pensive, considering the idea. "It could be dangerous," he disclosed, "If the death-eater has a strong desire of abandoning Voldemort, it works, but if a part of him hesitates, there's the risk that it would deepen their bond, destroying the dark mark by the same way. It would render the both of them more powerful. Besides, you can't kill the death-eaters either because it would give their energy to Voldemort."

That was less good news… Dumbledore sighed. He would go to the prison and scan every prisoner's mind. "By the way," he said, "How did you enter Azkaban?"

Draco's eyes darkened, and he looked elsewhere. "That's my secret." A secret he was ashamed of. Really… If his father knew, he would laugh at him! Hopefully, the man had been unconscious when Draco had taken him out and couldn't remember the way they had taken.

Dumbledore smiled anew. He was certain it was something stupid, so stupid that no one had ever thought of it. And for Draco to look so disgraced, it had to be related to what purebloods were repulsed by: muggles. What had the child done? How had he tricked the prison's wards and guards? And… how had he tricked him? "Then may I know how you made Lucius enter Hogwarts?"

"When you were out at the Ministry."

Silence filled the office. Of course… Let's forget the question. The child truly had been listening to them during the Christmas supper… Dumbledore was the only one that could feel every person that passed the school's gates, and when he had come back from London, Lucius had already been inside Salazar's lab and it had been too late to detect the intruder… Dumbledore coughed slightly. It was embarrassing to have been bested so easily…

"And," Draco changed the subject again, "thank you also for playing the game when I had the mark."

Dumbledore hummed. "You gave me an important lesson that day." One should beware of his allies as he does his enemies. One or many members of the Order were lending information to the aurors, and it had a connection with hatred against death-eaters. That could be almost everyone. This person had denounced Severus, then Draco. The same way, the information that the boy had become a demonist would soon be out. But since Dumbledore's political situation couldn't be much worse; he didn't care. He would protect the boy.

When he had openly defended Lucius against the aurors' accusation, a part of the population had looked at him with suspicion. He was protecting a known death-eater. If there was no proof left of Malfoy's guilt, few were fooled. What if the old wizard was secretly joining the dark lord? Some versions were more interesting: Voldemort had killed Dumbledore and the Malfoys had replaced him by a marionette. No explanation would make them change, and the headmaster would need Harry's help on this.

"Still," Dumbledore recalled, "You should be more prudent. Your father is fragile."

Draco sighed. "I know… But I fear this isn't the last time…" Some of his projects would make him very powerful, but it wouldn't be without stress and worry for the people that cared about him…

Dumbledore smiled. Poor Lucius…

"Do they possess a means to destroy Tom?" Draco suddenly inquired. He had sent the spirit away, to spy on the professors so that he'd know the examination questions in advance.

"No, except if they destroy Voldemort, maybe." He didn't know how nor exactly what, but Draco had gotten a power over the spirit, which meant Tom was temporarily harmless. He hadn't spoken of it to anyone but such a situation, especially now that all the school was aware of Tom's existence, could reveal an incredible advantage. He couldn't save death-eaters against their will, but he could prevent others from becoming one.

It was getting late, and Draco surely had planned to visit Severus, or so Dumbledore hoped. He could spy on the boy's mind to have confirmation, but Draco could react badly to the intrusion, was he to feel it. There was one more subject they needed to talk about.

"Draco," he called for the child's attention, "You're aware of what being a demonist entails?"

The Slytherin sighed and took out his wand. "I am. But I chose it to be this way; I won't change my mind…"

o-

Severus was once again standing at his cauldron, brewing whatever traversed his mind. He felt tired and jealous. Jealous of Lucius, whom Draco had forgiven. He was the boy's father; Draco should resent him more for his treason! Or he could forget it quicker…

Still, Draco had accepted to work with him on the potion, it had to mean something… In a fit of rage, Severus smacked his hands on his worktable, spilling potion on it. Waiting and apprehension were ruining him. He went to grasp his wand and magically clean the place when his door opened. It was Draco, a smiling and forgiving Draco, and Snape's heart jumped anew in his chest.

But Fate had decided he wasn't to feel relief so soon.

Severus got a telepathic call from Dumbledore. The headmaster asked for their presence. Aurors were here.

Anxious, Snape informed the boy of the situation. Draco simply said: "They were quicker than I foresaw…" 'And just have the worst timing in the worlds.' But his eyes betrayed his fear. He had expected some time to master another demon; he had hoped for too much. They knew he was a demonist; it was enough to arrest him. They wouldn't send him to Azkaban, for they ought to know he had a way of escaping. By openly revealing to the Order that he was a demonist, he had wanted to force the traitor out of the Order but had gotten caught at his own plan… One couldn't win every time, he supposed. He only wished they had no Occlumence with them.

They both headed to the office, and Draco thought he should rather have stayed there. That way, Snape wouldn't have suffered again. The man's face was blanching with each step. Draco had come to him, and another problem had struck.

Severus had never liked the Malfoys. For decades, he had been forced to obey Lucius' orders because the high lord was superior to him in Voldemort's ranks. But when he had awoken from his coma, he had been allowed no time to hate the Malfoy child. Draco was a Malfoy, but Snape liked the brat. And, raised by Lucius, he could have become much worse… Besides, Draco enjoyed Potions… In short, Severus had given up his revenge against the family. But what had been simple interest at the beginning had grown into uncontrollable fondness. He couldn't bare the idea of the child in Azkaban, or worse…

Opening the door to the office, he saw Dars, flanked by three aurors. They had no proof yet but had come for an arrest anyway.

Dumbledore fumed inwardly. He had believed the pieces of information that got out were due to inattention. But that the aurors were informed so quickly of the last developments… there was a traitor in the Order.

Dars smirked at Snape's crestfallen look. He had waited years to see that. Maybe he wouldn't destroy the Potions Master, but he would have his revenge. Snape would suffer just as he had. And the Malfoys would never rise from the ruins he was preparing to make of their family.

"Draco Malfoy," he read his arrest warrant, "You've been declared guilty of practising the dark arts, which is condemned by a life sentence in Azkaban. Exceptionally and due to extraordinary reasons, you will be taken to the Ministry and… locked inside the Shadow World," Dars finished after an hesitation.

Dumbledore blanched at the disproportionate condemnation, never realising the temporary doubt in Dars' voice. The Ministry was more rotten than he had believed if they could allow such an horror to happen. Once someone was sent in there, there was no way out. They were assured the boy would never be liberated, should Dumbledore have the support of the population back. "I wonder," he said, "What proof do you have?"

Dars smirked again, forgetting about his sudden flinch when reading the sentence. "Didn't he invoke a demon inside this very room, dear headmaster?"

"Technically, no, the demon was already there," contradicted Draco. Dumbledore softly smiled at the declaration. The boy had understood what attitude he was to adopt. If Draco wanted to go on with his demonology studies, he had to accept the accusation. But they wouldn't arrest him either.

"I hope your informer mentioned Tom Riddle's presence too?" the headmaster recalled casually.

"They did, and this way, the spirit won't have any contact left in the physical world." The aurors' plan seemed good. Except that…

"And do you know what will happen once Draco will be dead in the Shadow World? Because he will soon, just like everyone that fell in it," Dumbledore went on.

Ha… No reaction… "Riddle will feed on his energy and take form. Do you want to be responsible for the massacre he will then perform?"

"This doesn't fall within our competence," hissed Dars. "But as you so kindly warned us, we will take care of that."

"I don't think you will," cut through Draco. "Obviously you have no idea of a demonist's power, just like the imbecile that supplied you with these pieces of information."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, boy," replied Dars, angry at all the interruptions. Severus was observing the scene with interest, alongside with the other aurors. The officials were dubious. What if what Dumbledore said was the truth? What if the death of the Malfoy child could liberate another Voldemort? Could they take the risk? They would have to find a place to lock the boy in and to insure he lived. But even this solution was destroyed…

"On our way to the office," Draco explained, "I opened a gate to the Demonic World. Only my will is keeping the demons from launching in here. If you make the slightest move against me, I throw disaster on this world."

'Interesting menace,' thought Dumbledore, amused, half-hoping it wasn't a power Draco would truly develop later.

Dars was blanching, and Severus was restraining himself from jumping in joy at the reversal of the situation.

"And you seriously believe we trust you? No one has such a power as to open a gate between worlds!" raged the Auror, forgetting they had an audience.

Draco smirked. "Where do you think my little devil came from? But maybe you would like to interrogate me? Under Veritaserum, perhaps? Please, feel free; it will be my pleasure to describe to you how each demonic race would kill you. They have very interesting customs…"

Severus could hear the teeth clenching from metres away. The auror's eyes were slowly tainting with blood as he understood he had lost. The officials had to depart without their prisoner but, as the office's door closed behind them, Dars sent a death look at Snape, his eyes conveying his hatred, saying that he wouldn't stop there. Whatever the means necessary, he would destroy Snape and make him pay. The war wouldn't stop there.

Draco stared at the door long after it closed. Any observer would have thought he was savouring his short victory, but his mind was somewhere else, pondering at the look Dars and Snape had shared. What could have occurred in the past that such rancour would have developed? For Draco hadn't been fooled by the auror's act and menaces. HE was of no interest to Dars, the official only wanted Severus. Why? That was the question they would have to answer.

Little did they all know that in the upcoming morning, the encounter would be narrated in every newspaper.

o-

Oblivious of the bad press they would be victim of very soon, Draco and Severus headed back for the Potions Master's lab. They entered the professor's apartments, smiling lightly as the stress of the situation was evaporating. It always was a good day when Slytherins tricked aurors. Snape went to a small sideboard and took out wine he kept for grand occasions. It was one. He served them two drinks and vaguely wondered if Lucius would approve… But who cared on this wonderful night!

They took a place on the sofa and sipped the wine. Looking at each other, Draco's lips bore a little grin and his eyes a faint twinkle that made Severus laugh softly. The student could witness the tension quit the older man's shoulders in waves and decided to bury the matter for a while. His professor needed to relax more than Draco needed answers.

"Ah, professor! It was incredible!" Draco exclaimed suddenly, slouching in the sofa. He admitted it had felt good to force back the enemy, even if he hadn't been their true target.

"Yes. If only your lie had been true," reminded Severus. Hopefully, there had been no Occlumence among the aurors.

"Why being so pessimistic, professor? We got out well! Besides…" Draco's eyes screwed with pleasure, "Who said it was a lie?"

Severus eyed the child with surprise. What had Draco said! But he could have sworn… "You told them the truth?" he asked with surprising calm given his opinion on the subject, "Draco, do you realise how dangerous it can be to reveal your powers like that! You're a fool… Lupin is turning you into a Gryffindor."

Draco choked in his glass and he looked at Snape with eyes like saucers. "No!"

Severus chuckled. The child was a nice Slytherin.

"By the way, professor," Draco had his devilish look again. "You owe me for your lies of last week."

Snape sighed deeply. "I do." But he didn't care anymore. Draco had forgiven him; it was all that counted.

"Then, as an excuse, I want you to let me sleep here tonight."

Snape frowned and blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said: I want to sleep here tonight," repeated the boy, not bothered at all by what he asked.

"Are you mad?" the professor murmured. "If someone learns of that, I'll be sacked!"

"Then we'll have to make sure no one does. It's settled. Where do I sleep?" The boy put on his best 'I'm a sweet angel' face and Snape fumed. This child was the plague.

Giving in, Severus found a cot to transfigure and hesitated in proposing his bed to Draco. No way! The boy already invaded his room; it was enough. Snape wouldn't be moved by… Merlin, those eyes….

To his horror, someone knocked at his door and, not waiting for an answer, entered the room. "Professor!" Draco immediately called, grinning like an imbecile at the newcomer. It could only be one person… "Lupin," saluted Snape with a groan.

"I searched for you all evening," the werewolf vaguely lectured the child. "Dumbledore told me of your feats."

"Yeah!" Draco smiled. "It was great. And to celebrate our victory, Professor Snape is letting me sleep here tonight," he said, proud of his achievement against the professor's resistance.

Remus arched an eyebrow, amused. So, Draco enjoyed company… In front of them, Severus remained agape. "What did I just tell you, you imbecile!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "That it could get you sacked and bla bla bla. But professor Lupin is a friend. There's no risk!"

"Draco's right," Remus said with a kind voice. "There's no risk. I'm not a Slytherin, I wouldn't denounce you, especially to avenge you getting me sacked four years ago, hum?…"

Severus blanched noticeably. "You wouldn't dare…"

And Remus smirked.

End of Chapter 5.


	6. Chapter 6 : You, me, the three of us

**The Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 6: You, me, the three of us.**

**Sunday, September the 27****th**

When his alarm clock rang, Remus groaned in his pillow and resisted the urge to throw the awful thing through his window. After such a tiring week, he wasn't even allowed to lie in. At the beginning of the school year, he had offered his services to watch the children during their monthly visits to Hogsmeade. He regretted it now. It was one of those weekends… So he had to get up… And Snape was probably still enjoying his sleep… There was no justice…

Making the best of it, he remembered the evening of the past day, when Snape had been afraid his colleague would denounce him. Of course he wouldn't have, but it was appreciating to know that the Potions Master didn't put it past him. It reminded him of the Marauders' time. Remus showered and dressed, hoping he could convince Albus that he needed Severus to keep all the students in line. Taking the Slytherin children into account, that wasn't far from the truth…

But he wouldn't need such an excuse…

He entered the Great Hall and had to cover his ears because of the noise. What was that now? The upper years were all awake due to the Hogsmeade's outing. They represented barely half the school but made more racket than all the students combined during the Halloween feast. Spotting Dumbledore, he joined the old man at the teacher's table. The headmaster was scanning through the morning's paper and, when he was finished, agitated his hand to calm the children. That had no effect.

Sighing, the old man looked skywards and snapped his fingers. All noise stopped, and Remus chuckled at the students trying to discern where their mouths had disappeared. He grasped a newspaper and read the front page. 'Ok, that's it,' he thought, 'No wonder they're all so panic-stricken…'

"Are you calmed?" Dumbledore inquired of the children. There was no reaction, but some eyes showed suspicion or even hatred. The headmaster had gone mad. First, he protected a dark wizard, then he allowed the return of Slytherin's heir, and finally, he defended a demonist. He had lost his mind. Did he realise this was dark magic? "Good." He clicked his fingers again and the mouths went back to their places. "What is your problem?" the headmaster asked, as if it were the most natural question in the world.

Immediately, Remus' hands went to his ears. Merlin he hated that! It was two days away from the full moon, and his senses were slowly gaining in acuteness, rendering many sounds unbearable, such as the shouts of children.

Dumbledore hushed the students. "One at a time, please. Miss Granger." Better begin with someone with a modicum of common sense and calm.

Hermione cleared her throat, to affirm her voice, and presented the problem. "I think they don't agree with the presence of a demonist in the school, professor."

"Yeah, expel him!" "He's a dark wizard!" "Can't you see he performed a lobotomy on you?!" "He's dangerous!" etc… They let out a torrent of abuse against the Slytherin.

"Shut up!" stormed a voice from the Great Hall's doors. "Some people want their rest!"

The Draco's entrance calmed the spirits. It could get dangerous to try expelling a demonist to his face. Still, some wands discreetly got out to point at the young Malfoy, rapidly accioed by Remus. The werewolf suddenly felt tired and sad. Draco had gone to their side, but he was more rejected now than when he was to become a death-eater…

"Half of the Slytherins have practised dark magic since they were five years old and you never tried to expel them!" remarked Draco with mockery in his voice.

"But they didn't liberate the spirit of an assassin!" blamed Ron.

"His last murder was fifty years ago. There's prescription," Draco spoke back.

"Not when he attempted murder five years ago!" yelled another student, whom Draco remembered having been attacked by the basilisk.

"And what happened? You got morphed into stone for a few weeks, oh what an horror… I almost got sent into the Shadow World because of Weasley's little talkative type!" he accused. That wasn't entirely true since the aurors had wanted to arrest him for being a demonist and the weasel had only revealed Tom was back, but no one noticed the change.

Silence followed the declaration, and Draco smirked. "What? They didn't narrate that into your newspaper?"

Observing the scene, Harry sighed. He supposed he'd never understand the crowds… He turned to the headmaster and got confirmation of Draco's last words. "Professor," he said more to himself than to the old man, "If they want to send Malfoy into the Shadow World for fighting Voldemort, what will they do to me after the Last Battle?" he sadly asked.

Dumbledore inwardly smiled at Harry's intervention, despite the anxiousness he felt from the question. He had often wondered that too...

Even the Gryffindor's red-haired friend, previously so hot-tempered, had calmed down at the revelation. No one deserved such a fate, except for Lestrange who had sent Sirius to it.

"But I don't care about you and your problems," concluded Draco, "We're already late for Hogsmeade, and I want to see the new Comet 3000. So when are we going?"

"It's out next week, cretin," commented a Ravenclaw.

"If you weren't so engrossed in non-existent subjects such as my private life, you'd have read page three of the Daily Prophet and discovered that the broom is on general release one week sooner than they announced," retorted Draco.

"What?! Where is it written?!" someone screamed, flipping the Newsweek's pages with excitement. Everyone present soon forgot the demonist problem as they rushed to prepare for Hogsmeade. Peered at by Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore smiled.

"How is the director of Comet Racers?" she asked with a disinterested air.

"He's well. Slightly tired from his sleepless night…" It had been by chance only that Mr Wilst, current director of this broom company, had been a good friend of Dumbledore and monetarily indebted to Lucius Malfoy. He had been much too happy to trick the aurors, especially when the high lord had proposed to pay the price.

Caring no more than before about his peers, Draco caught the Weasley girl. "Your brother told you?" he inquired.

"Harry did," she replied carefully. Malfoy was there; Tom could be near… "What do you want?"

"To propose to you a deal." He bent to her ear and murmured some words, soon inveighed by Ron.

"You don't touch my sister…" the Gryffindor bickered with an angry scowl.

"Ron!" she reproached, "This is my life; stay out of it. I accept," she announced to Draco.

"Perfect." That was all he needed to hear, and he went away. He didn't care about the redhead getting lectured by his little sister for trying to control too much of her affairs. Particularly, he didn't want to be in the way, in case a bad hex flew at the poor, poor, poor little weasel. Draco smirked. If only that could happen…

He hadn't stomached Weasley's revelation to the whole school that Tom was still here. But what angered him most was the presence of a traitor very near. Or maybe the old fool's office was spied on… Draco wasn't afraid of the Shadow World's nature for he had already come into contact with it when he had gotten Karnar, but if he could send someone in it, or take someone out, he wasn't certain he could do the same to himself. He wasn't eager to try. That was why he needed a back up plan in case the aurors came back. He needed something nobody would know of, that nobody would be able to counter. He needed a demon… Noting Lupin, he repressed his bad thoughts, suppressed a giggle, and headed for the teacher.

"Professor," he called in a gentle voice. "I had an idea this morning."

Remus, although amused, frowned. The ideas of this child were often dangerous. But the change of subject was welcome. Just as Harry, and probably Snape and the Malfoys, he wondered what would happen to him after the war, if something happened to Albus: the old man had been the only one to protect him when it had been revealed he was a werewolf…

"I propose a game," Draco explained, "This is just like the House Points. Each time you need or want something from me, such as the Wolfsbane potion, you propose a point price. If I accept and do what you ask, I gain the number of points you promised. And each time I need or want something from you, I propose a price I have to pay with my collected points. At that moment, you're allowed to raise the price or simply refuse the deal. Same for me when you want something, of course. The game stops at the Yule Holidays. So, want to play?" He put on the 'sweet angel' face.

"If you have a hint of intelligence, you'll refuse," grunted Snape from behind. His eyes were underlined by dark shadows, causing the others to wonder what he had done during his night.

Moony turned to him, surprised to see the man awake. He voiced his astonishment, and the Potions Master glared at Draco. "He awoke me, saying someone wanted to stone him."

"And you said you didn't care," pouted the boy. "Well professor?" he went back to Lupin.

Remus hesitated. What could Draco gain out of this? Was it only a game, or had he planned something more? There was no danger, since he could refuse everything the boy asked… "Fine, I'll play."

Severus sighed. "You'll regret it…" And contrary to Remus, he knew what he was talking about and what to expect from the devilish child…

"Well, it's a good thing done. May I go home, headmaster?" Draco yelled to Dumbledore, "I have to talk to my parents before they read the papers."

"They're in my office."

'Drat it! I have to find something else…' moaned Draco. He effectively needed to explain the problem to them, so that they wouldn't over-worry, but he also wanted to pass by the crypt. "May I go home anyway; I have to take some books to work," he insisted.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, as if he knew what the boy wanted to perform there, and he accepted. 'If it goes on this way, he will be more spoiled at the end of this year than he was when he entered Hogwarts…' thought Severus.

o-

The Malfoy child had disappeared in the headmaster's office and spent some time relating the last night's events to his parents, never suspecting the part his father had played in it, before heading for Dumbledore only knew where. Remus watched over the students in Hogsmeade, accompanied by Severus. The man had somehow forgotten in wasn't his turn, then, when confounded, had declared he was in need of some ingredients. Remus hadn't contradicted him and only hid a smile.

To their surprise, a boy had deserted his friends to spend his morning with the two professors. They were rare, the children that could bare both of their company…

"Professor," said Harry with a hushed voice, "Do you know what Malfoy is going to do with Riddle?" he asked Moony. He had deserted Ron and Hermione to allow them 'couple peace' as he liked to call it. Maybe he ought to find a girlfriend too: he had to severely miss his friends if he could relish in Snape's conversation.

Remus sighed. "If only I did…"

For his part, Snape smirked. "Don't you have eyes to look and a brain to think? He's imitating the examples we all gave him."

The DADA teacher and his student glanced at each other, wondering if the other had understood the meaning. They hadn't. But Severus didn't care; he was happy: his work of twenty years was beginning to be of some use. Since the coming to power of the dark lord, Slytherins had come to life in families of fanatics. They were taught to obey. They never learnt to think. And for each student that came to Hogwarts, it was seven years that Severus spent attempting to teach the child what they lacked: a will of their own. For a part, it had worked; and some of these had avoided joining the death-eaters, mostly by leaving the country. But Snape should have known: only the influence of a Gryffindor could bring it to turn out well. Draco had been his unqualified success.

Slytherins were chosen for their ambition, be it good or bad. Voldemort had brought decadence over this house; he had clenched it in servitude, and he would pay. He would disappear, and Slytherin would rise anew.

They spent the entire morning watching over animated students. The incident during breakfast had been completely pushed backwards. Since the full day had been declared school free, they had lunch in Hogsmeade. At two o'clock, the broom shop opened, and a herd of students rushed inside to admire the new creation of Comet Racers. It was up to their expectation. Economies of many years tinted out of the pockets and those who didn't buy it encircled those who did.

Remus laughed at the children's eagerness and Harry's disappearance from his side, but the laughter died in his throat when a hand touched his arm. "Draco!" he exclaimed warmly, "I thought you weren't coming."

The child beamed with self-satisfaction. "I made it quick at..." but before he could continue, his face writhed in pain.

"What did you do?" asked Snape, releasing the obviously hurting arm of the boy. Staring at it, Remus discovered it had been bandaged to the wrist. He observed Draco with care and anxiety as he also waited for an answer.

The child carefully rubbed his left forearm. "I became more powerful."

But it wasn't all that bothered Remus. Something had changed… something physical… something… "Your hair…" he whispered.

Draco smiled at him and passed his hand on his head. "I cut it! At home, I looked into a mirror. It was disturbing; I had the impression of being my father. I prefer it this way." The short and rustled cut felt out of place on the usually aristocratically combed head, but Draco certainly gained from it. Long hair had made him look older than he truly was. If he went on with such transformations, he'd have no problem finding a date for the Halloween Ball. But what had changed hadn't been the hair either.

At length, they returned to the castle. It was about time; Remus had no legs left. Smirking, Draco went back to the headmaster's office as soon as they arrived. The werewolf didn't want to know what had passed in that head of his. He didn't want to know. And Dumbledore's mischievous smile during dinner only added to his resolution. Minerva questioned him though, and Remus couldn't help but prick up his sensitive ears.

"I was proposed a very interesting idea, one that I shall use," the witty old man answered vaguely. It was bad when Gryffindors began associating with Slytherins… Because Moony was certain that Dumbledore was referring to the conversation he had had with Draco a couple of hours earlier. A sudden doubt invaded his brain: they never had confirmation that Albus had been a Gryffindor… They had all assumed since he seemed to favour the red house, but now… he wasn't so certain anymore.

Besides, he hadn't deepened the question about Draco's wounded arm. What had the boy been doing at Malfoy Manor? And what was this story about power? His eyes followed the Slytherin's movement as the boy attempted to eat with only his right arm, since the left seemed not of much use in its current state. It had taken him a moment to remember that Draco was left-handed. Remus sighed… Slytherins and pride…

He had wanted to go after Draco for some answers, but his project was disturbed two times in a row, and when he was finally free of actions, the child had vanished.

"I slightly modified the organisation for the Ball," Dumbledore had announced to the teachers. "It will be masked." If Remus had paid close attention, he'd have noticed the gleam in the old pupils and deducted Draco had something to do with this sudden change. But he didn't.

The second distraction came from Miss Granger, who had noticed a very unusual fact: in the Teacher's Room, at the place where the points were counted for each house, another point flask had been added, bearing Mr Malfoy's name. Why had Dumbledore done that? And how had he heard of their game? More, why did he so solemnly agree with it?

Getting none of the answers he requested, Remus sneaked into the Slytherin dungeon. His arriving was still noticed. Blasted Snakes! Trying to ignore the angry stares at his back, he rapped on the secret lab's door. In front of so many students, he couldn't decently use and reveal the password. But there was no answer.

"He's in the dorm," said a voice from behind him.

Remus swirled to the unexpected help and faced Blaise Zabini. Surprised and genuinely gladdened there was still someone in this house that didn't reject Draco, he went up the stairs, led by the student.

"No?! She did that?! Great! I wish I had witnessed it!" Draco was alone in the room, doubled up with laugher on his bed. Remus approached the bed and waited till the end of the boy's crisis. Suddenly, the boy rolled on his belly and eyed Moony expectedly. "Professor?" he invited with that silvering voice.

Remus sighed silently and sat on the mattress. 'I am getting much too familiar with this child,' he thought sadly.

"Don't bother with that," Draco said, as if reading his thoughts, "I will be out of school in less than a year."

Remus peered inquiringly at him as his breath itched in his throat. He was an Occlumens? When would he have learnt that? But Draco laughed at him. "Tom just read your mind," the child explained. Ha… Riddle… It was him that Draco had been talking with when Remus had entered. "And… Tom," Draco called gently, "Will you leave us a moment, please?" he inquired in a kind tone. It sounded odd to hear someone talking this way to Voldemort. But Moony guessed Tom wasn't totally You-Know-Who anymore… Draco eyed the spirit, then went back to his visitor.

"I wanted to verify you were well," Remus exposed.

Draco smiled softly, "You worry too much, professor. It isn't good to dwell on matters you can't control."

And Lupin sent the smile back. "It is my nature, I suppose. But… You seem… Different, since you came back." He stopped, hesitating. It wasn't his place to question the boy; he was nothing but a professor… And it only was an impression…

Fingers brushed his robes, frightening his bad thoughts. "Today, I got a new demon," Draco explained, "The full moon is getting near, and the wolf in you is feeling his influence on my personality. It's only a matter of days before my body is adapted to his presence; then you will stop noticing him."

Remus nodded in thanks of the explanation and grinned to lighten the atmosphere. "You seem more sensible too."

"Because he is. I gave him energy, and he offered me some of his wisdom. I am honoured that he accepted to become my demon." And in fact, the child's voice wasn't that of an adolescent anymore, and Remus first observed the full extent of Draco's maturing.

"Do I win some points for easing your worries?"

Not so matured; finally... "Two points to Malfoy," he declared. Cunning child.

o-

Severus turned back and forth in his bed, cursing his pillow for not giving him the rightful sleep he deserved. The invading student had disturbed his previous night. Draco had gone to the cot, never asking for more, and had been sleeping some moments later. Snape had talked with his colleague then read for a time and finally gone to his own bed. There, his nightmare had begun. Tranquilly, he had accommodated his head on the fluffy pillow and serenely closed his eyes, reassured that Lupin would divulge nothing that could get him into trouble. And he had heard it. The small voice calling for his professor. The werewolf had vaguely mentioned Draco's nightmares and, a fatherly feeling filling his heart, Severus had gotten up. Only two seconds, he had thought, just the time to verify Draco was fine…

And fine, the boy had been. Stretched out on his back on the cot, young hands clutching the sheets, muscles tensed, lips slightly parted, letting hot and quick breathes escape. Severus froze at the sight. It couldn't be happening… "Professor…" Draco moaned again, arching his back.

Horrified, Severus cast a soundproof spell around the boy and went back to his bed. But he soon realised he wouldn't find sleep this night. Questions were overcoming his mind. Had it been a simple dream? No… Draco's reactions couldn't be mistaken… He had been having sexual intercourse with one of his teachers. Which one? Which professor had Draco had the madness to desire?

Frenzied, he recalled the scene in Malfoy Manor the past day, when Draco had called for and caught Lupin's hand. That was it: it had to be Lupin. This was the werewolf's problem. If the imbecile Gryffindor couldn't take care of the way children saw him, too bad for him!

And there, twenty-four hours later, alone in his room, he still pondered on what he had seen. Even after convincing himself that it was Lupin whom Draco called, the soft moans had gone on replaying in his head all day long. He enjoyed the contact of women's bodies on his and had never felt the need to lie with a man, but it was long since he last experienced the pleasures of flesh and the idea that someone so young could desire him, the old and greasy Potions Master of Hogwarts, was unwillingly enticing. And Draco's new cut… At first sight, it made him look rebellious but if you gave him a second glance, you then noted his resolute pose, his wise eyes, and the developing power that escaped his fingers. He was a weak child growing into a formidable adult. Soon, Draco would be an incredible adversary.

And this fantasy of forcing the Demon Master into yielding aroused Severus. He caressed his blanket, just above his swelling member and breathed out his pleasure. The child, kneeling in obedience, his aristocratic features flushing with shame and scorched lust, his sweet lips opening to taste… Suddenly he remembered how Draco had only called for a 'professor' and he softened back in a mere second. Merlin, he was going mad. He was wanking over a child, a student whom he wasn't even sure had the weakest desire for him. But it felt so good, and it had been so long… All these years, his responsibilities in the school, his position as a spy, the knowledge of Voldemort's probable return had inexorably denied him the possibility of any relation; and for the first time, the sheets of his bed appeared empty and cold. He HAD to take some vacations… and visit a brothel… He couldn't afford the luxury of having thoughts about Lucius Malfoy's son.

Determined to absorb his mind in less lustful, lewd and deadly concerns, he lighted his wand's tip, propped it on his night-table and grabbed a thin book he had found in a pile of old volumes that he'd brought from the Snape House by chance long ago, the only one he had found left in the school that concerned demonology. One passage had particularly called forth his attention.

'_The major weakness of the demonists comes from their incapacity at using tools to canalise magic,'_ the book read, _'Thus, numerous spells that common wizards consider child's play are rendered very difficult to practice for them. On the opposite, the demonists' destructive power is certainly much more important than this of the dark magic. Demonists can't use their magic in everyday life; they are specialised in battle. They could be described as warrior wizards.'_

So that explained the slow extinction of the demonists. Wizards preferred the possibility of relying on magic on a daily basis rather than achieving small tasks by hand. Did Draco know that he would have to abandon his wand?

'Their main assets are the control of fire and shadow, the great effectiveness of their maledictions and, of course, their mastering of the demons (refer to chapter three for more information on demons).'

Flipping the pages, Severus found the mentioned chapter. _'Demons come from the Demonic World, which is situated behind the Shadow World. Physically, this assertion was never verified, but this is how the demonists describe the place's location. It is very probable that when a demon is invoked by its master, it has to go through the Shadow World, which would be no more than a barrier. _

_This capacity of the demonists to pass from one world to another gave form to the ancient expression 'curse to shadows'. It meant being punished by a demonist into being his servant for a time he was to choose. Generally, the offender was sent into the Shadow World till he surrendered to his new master. Most sane persons preferred to submit before the sentence was even executed. As strange as it may seem considering this extraordinary ability, there exists no report of a demonist's abuse of this power. It was only used as a revenge for failed attempted murder or psychic manipulation, which demonists hate to no limit. _

_Indeed, if I had to name one thing that angers demonists, it would be meddling with their mind. Occlumens breaking into demonists' minds isn't unheard of but trust and permission are essential elements throughout the exchange. If one of them was missing, the Occlumens would be cursed and dead within minutes.'_

"Ok, no messing with Draco's mind…" Severus said out loud, impressed.

'_This hatred comes from their total symbiosis with their demons. When a master, a demonist no longer solely possesses his own mind but also his demon's. As explained in chapter five, demonists are very protective of their demons, and the idea that a stranger could try to enter their pets' spirits because of a weakness on their part frightens them to no end. To strike is like a conditioned reflex and not a spell they actually have to learn._

_The malediction they use in such a case is amusingly named 'Mermaid's Call' because it generates into the Occlumens' mind an intense desire to commit suicide for the demonist's cause before the curse actually kills them. Demonists only use this malediction to punish trespassers of their mind. _

_Such a deadly curse is the reason why multiple walls' recognition is taught to Occlumens during their training. Possessing several minds, demonists also have several protective walls. Their united strength is no more than the common human one and poses no problem for a confirmed Occlumens to break; albeit, it is the only signal one will receive that the person he is mind-scanning is a demonist. Shall the Occlumens not see the sign and break into the mind, the consequences he will endure are numerous and have already been described.'_

"Darn it… Didn't Potter attempt scanning Draco's mind yesterday? Thank Merlin he's such an inattentive rascal. I'll have to warn Albus too, in case the old fool feels curious."

'On the contrary, demonists have no resistance at all concerning interrogatory potions, such as Veritaserum. Very small doses are enough to destroy any of their resistance. Still, since they needn't wands to cast maledictions or curses, it is common that their assent be required before the beginning of the session. Another way is to gag them, and they have to write their answers. Captured demonists have their tongue cut to prevent any problem occurring.'

'But what about Imperio? Do they react to it too? If only that could kill Voldemort…' Curious, Severus searched for the author's of the book and its publication date. He was disappointed: the book was two hundred years old… No wonder they didn't talk about Imperio. It didn't even exist at that time.

'Going back to the demon matter, there are two sorts of them: common demons and demon gods, also called daemons. Demons have no religion, and these creatures were so named because of their incredible powers. Many demonists found death attempting to master daemons.

The stronger the demon is, the more difficult it is for the demonist to master, but also the more powerful he will become from this alliance. Depending on the demons he masters, a demonist may acquire other powers than the usual ones, such as spirit control over animals or humans, air or thunder mastery, and skills with weapons.

Due to the small number of existing demonists, it is difficult to describe the full extent of their capacities. Demonists learn and work alone; they require no particular teaching, since they specialise individually.

Chapter 4: Reader, if you were to come across an angered demonist, knowing not of its powers, I strongly suggest to instantly apparate away. This is an ability they don't possess, and if you don't attack them, they will forget they met you. If you can't disappear, then avert their way or, as a last resort, show submission. Demonists do not attack submissive subjects, as long as said subject hasn't wronged them.'

'Show submission… They're funny; what do they mean by that?' Severus didn't plan to kneel to Draco each time the spoilt child had been refused something…

'On a scale of power, to defeat a demonist, a dark wizard has to be classed one rung higher at least. To begin a fight with a demonist then attempt to flee would be the biggest error in a duel: their maledictions would pursue you everywhere. Only other demonists and the strongest wizards can clear away maledictions from a body. Fortunately, very few of those can actually kill a wizard: they are generally energy stealing or exhausting curses.

Contrary to popular belief, demonists have no particular problem against enlightening spells and do not fear them. In some situations, they even like them: light engenders shadows which they can take energy from. What is strong against them, however, are wind and cold: they destabilise most of their shadow and fire spells. There is no known way of avoiding a malediction other than keeping the demonist from casting it by gagging spells. And for the demons… they are the reason why demonist very rarely lose a duel against someone possessing the same amount of power than them.'

Well… That said a lot… He'd better take care of increasing his skills in elemental charms… And far, far away in his mind, a little voice that he desired to forget told him to work harder, to train longer, to defy the demonist child and to win his favours.

o-

_**Flashback: The morning of the same day**_

"_You should place a soundproof charm on yourself when you sleep," Tom commented, his mouth twisted in a slightly disgusted rictus._

"_Why that?" inquired Draco. They were on their way to the crypt, where Tom had decided to accompany him since he was getting bored at the school. _

"_Snape heard you tonight, when you were dreaming of Lupin."_

_Draco reddened. "Oh… He knew it was Lupin? And how do you know, anyway?" he asked with a suspicious scowl._

"_No, he didn't know it was Lupin. All you said was 'professor'. And I know because when you look at him, you have this stupid goofy grin." Tom explained with a sneer, contemplating with satisfaction his master blushing to the top of his ears. Draco had cast a spell on his dorm's bed, to avoid awakening his dorm-mates, but often forgot it when he was sleeping elsewhere. It was in Salazar's lab that Tom had first discovered Draco's attraction for his professor. He didn't understand it… Men were made to lie with women. Besides, Lupin was so old… Yuck… _

"_Anyway, if my father learns of it from Snape, I won't have to think of it much more. He'll have me married within the month."_

"_Send him to Hell," Tom angrily reacted._

_Draco looked at him, showing an unabashed puzzlement at the outburst, "I thought the idea of two men fucking disgusted you?"_

"_It does, but I hate even more the idea of the one that holds my debt taking orders from anyone." He could bear Draco murmuring the werewolf's name as he dreamed of the man caressing him. But never would he agree with his current master getting ordered around! To be forced to obey someone that couldn't decide his own life… It was unthinkable. _

_Draco smirked. Tom was unique. He had noticed his carnal attraction for men two years ago, during a potions' class. Who would have thought students bending over cauldrons could be so entertaining? Often, he had fantasised about what Snape could hide under his large robes, till the man had somehow become his master in potions, and Draco had refrained any more thought. _

_He hadn't been particularly horrified to discover himself bisexual. After all, why not? __He was realistic enough to know about his own yearning after mental and physical love. And Lupin had been his solace, when Draco had been locked in the crypt with his father. The desire he had for the werewolf was peaceful. The memory of the kind voice and gentle arms had helped him overcome his nightmares for a time. He wished to be cradled, but he also wanted to protect the innocent man. The problem was: he had no idea how or from what._

o-

**Monday, September the 28****th**

When Draco strode in the Great Hall that morning, everybody noticed he was pissed. And when he slumped on a bench at the Slytherin table, students cautiously withdrew from the hazardous place that was around Draco Malfoy.

After hearing of the boy being a demonist, many had considered it careful and wise to make some inquiries of their powers. Most hadn't found much. As no demonist had been referenced since two hundred years ago, the books had disappeared, thrown into the trash or just not maintained in a state that allowed them to be read. Globally, what had been retained of demonists over the time was their destructive powers, and such information couldn't put the children's mind at ease.

Peculiar, it seemed, that Draco would be so angry at the beginning of the day. Indeed, after his little fugue, he had vaguely talked to his mother about his nightmares. The clever woman needed no more say to promise him a Pensieve and had brought it to her son while making inquiries about the aurors' visit the past day. She was wonderful. Soothed, the child had immediately subsided the remnants of this haunting night in the grave from his spirit. When he had gone to his bed, his fears of reviving the terror had been frankly shaken and for the first time in months, he had settled his head on his pillow, unafraid of what dream he would face.

He had awoken with the sun, stretched out on the bedspread, his body still sore from his dreamt breathtaking night. Snape had been grandiose. He still had some minutes to enjoy the warmth of his sheets… and the stickiness of his pants… before he had to get up. The wet spot being slightly disturbing for his rest, he had reached for his wand under his pillow, and met naught. He had then remembered he had no wand. And the stain at the front of his pyjama pants was easily noticeable. He had peeked at the dorm, partially hidden from his mates' view by the bed curtains. As ill luck would have it, Nott was awake and reading. To cap it all, the Slytherin's bed was between Draco and the bathroom. Draco cursed. Merlin hated him today. He had been forced to wait half an hour till the imbecile had gotten up. And during these interminable minutes, his stomach had gone out growling and groaning for food.

Here he was now, hair in disarray since he hadn't felt like smoothing it into a calm hairstyle, pupils dilated by exasperation, stomach lurching with hunger. He scoped the breakfast table in search for something that would satiate his hunger, only to meet porridge, eggs, jams and those disgusting things muggles called cereals. Such lack of luck was getting on his nerves.

Luckily, Karnar was there to illuminate his day. Sweet demon. Draco grinned at the chance he had to possess such an intelligent little devil. Under the stares of many, Karnar entered the Great Hall and went to his master, holding out the bag of cookies that Draco had left in his room and got hugged in return. Oblivious to the boys' dark looks at the demon, and the girls' wondering ones that would have liked to know how he could eat so much and not put on weight, he devoured the cookies.

When he was finished and ready to go to class, he caught sight of Dumbledore motioning him to the teacher's table. The old man had a pass for him, paper that he had promised during a previous conversation. Finally, this day wasn't so bad.

Transfiguration was first. He took a place at the last row and brought out a book. "To be an animagus," the title said. It was fascinating, the way the author had of explaining the mechanism of the transformation. When he'd have completed his lecture, all he'd need was the counsel of someone that actually was an animagus. For that, he wouldn't have the choice: the only person he knew of was McGonagall… and maybe Dumbledore. By the way, McGonagall… The woman tapped her fingers on Draco's desk. She was already there?

Draco looked around him and discovered faces eyeing him with amusement at the number of points he was going to loose. They all had their quills and wands out, surely attempting to morph them into another uselessness. The professor cleared her throat to make sure she had been noticed. Draco looked up at her. She was scowling and he flinched. He had an excuse this time… He took out the paper that Dumbledore had given him during breakfast and presented it. Frowning, she read it before handing it back and leafing through the book.

"Fine," she said. "But I expect you at my desk at the end of the class."

He nodded. McGonagall could be nice, when she wanted. She had the right to refuse the request of the headmaster, since it wasn't an order, but she had accepted it.

When the students rushed out of the classroom, true to his word, he went to see her. She finished taking notes on the students' work then gave him her full attention.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, may I know what happened that you are allowed such liberty?" she inquired with a dubious tone.

He coughed slowly and avoided her eyes. He felt uncomfortable with too many people being aware of his weakness. "I haven't a wand anymore."

This confession had a good point: he was certain that no one had ever seen McGonagall with such enormous eyes. "Why?"

"Because I'm a demonist. I… somehow lost the capacity to use my wand."

"Oh… So you are learning to become an animagus? It seems a good way to spend your time in this class," she relented, "But I want you to inform me of your progress each passing week."

He grinned. Yeah, she was a fine teacher. But now he was late and he had… oh, potions! He hadn't remembered. It was true that he hadn't paid much attention to his timetable when the year had begun. He crossed the corridors and arrived to a close door, on which he softly knocked.

"What it is?" yelled Snape while opening the door, angry at the interruption. He mellowed when he saw the standing student. "Why are you late?" he inquired in a voice he wanted to be critical but that sounded to his own ears lustful and bestial.

"I talked with professor McGonagall," answered Draco, surprised by the question. The Potions Master had never reproached him with anything; why the sudden interrogation?

"Hum…" Snape was scanning Draco's face, resisting the urge to enter his mind. "There's a place left near Longbottom."

What? Again? That was impossible! Why was it always him that had to neighbour the clumsy Gryffindor? Had Snape woken up on his bad side or what? Or maybe it concerned Draco's previous conversation with Tom… If the man had heard what the spirit thought, who knows whatever scenario he could be playing in his mind right now? The boy smirked. Let's allow Snape his little fantasies. And if this reaction of his professor was on the contrary caused by disgust at the whole situation, well… he'd make sure to erase such uneasiness.

o-

Once again lying back in his bed, Severus eyed his room's roof with much hesitation. Many events had been concentrated in this last week, and he needed more time to organise and fully apprehend their utter implications, before he could make any move concerning Draco's new interest. Indeed, the boy was no more than seventeen, completely engrossed in this bloody adolescent period, having for his only friend of an akin age a murdering spirit and for his only pets demons. His father was constantly on the verge of being sent back to Azkaban, his mother spoiled him so rotten it was a wonder he had any common sense, his school mates wanted him expelled or dead, and his professors… better forget the way he considered them.

But Draco's sexual desire for one of his teachers wasn't Snape's current dilemma. What filled his thoughts was his recent discovery of the demonist's power to open gates between worlds. One and a half years ago, Sirius Black had fallen into the Shadow World. What was he to do?

His first solution was to forget he had ever read the book, throw it into the fire and never tell anyone about it. But would Albus discover that… the old man wouldn't be happy in the least. The second way was to inform Draco of the Gryffindor's presence in the Shadow World, since the boy probably didn't know it, then to let him deal with any action to take. Which came back to helping Black, whose idea repulsed Severus. He wanted and desired more than anything to let the man rot and die in his immense prison, but Dumbledore's eyes…

Snape was twisting his sheets, broken by what he was going to do, but Albus' esteem was too important to him that he would risk losing it in such a way. He got up and headed for a cupboard in which he conserved his antiquities. Opening a box, he found what he'd been searching for: it was a photo of himself and his friends, but at the back could be seen the Marauders. A thousand times he had put it in the trash, and a thousand times had he rummaged through the bin to recover it. The presence of the Gryffindors in the background was nothing. This photo was the last he possessed of Evan Rosier and Jonathan Wilkes. Both of them had been killed by aurors, twenty years ago, in a raid which Severus had informed Dumbledore of. And when, during the night, the thunder broke free, the scene replayed before his eyes and he saw his two best friends falling because of his betrayal. That day, he had stopped believing that the headmaster could make miracles. Later, Dumbledore had apologised for Severus' loss, but that hadn't made his friends come back…

Lupin too had looked at his few friends falling to ashes. Potter's murder, Black's apparent betrayal, Pettigrew's false death… then Black's fate.

With many yells from the occupants of the photo, he cut the part with the Gryffindors and sent it to Draco, praying to Merlin that no one would discover what he had just done: he didn't want anyone aware that he'd made the slightest move to help his worse nemesis.

o-

Draco's moans and groans were filling the bed, interrupted only by his screaming at his invisible lover to pound harder, when a hand shook him from his carnal dream.

"You have a message," said a voice he identified as Tom's. Grumping his displeasure, he grabbed the paper that had fled to his night table, resisting the urge to crush it and send the spirit through the window. Who did Riddle think he was, to awake him at the peak of his fucking with the Potions Master? Anger shot in his eyes for the spirit recoiled in prudence and quickly executed an excuse. "It's important. Comes from Snape."

Draco lit his lamp and eyed the minuscule bit of photo for an explanation. "How do you know?" he inquired, already vaguely aware of the answer.

"I was bored and passed by his rooms to see if you had a chance with him. He was awake but I don't think you were in his mind… not in this manner, anyway. He deliberated long before actually sending you this."

Satisfied with the explanation, Draco examined the photo with more attention. "It's Potter," he recognised instantly, "And here, I think it's Lupin. There are two others I don't know but they seem oddly familiar…"

"On Potter's left, it's Black, and the other should be Pettigrew," Tom proposed, remembering some other of his spying at Potter's expense.

Draco snorted. "Sirius Black? The black sheep of his fallen family? I remember dad talking about it, how the world had been tricked into believing he was the one who had betrayed the Potters." It was right the four of them knew each other… That also explained Lupin's kind attitude to the Golden Trio back in their third year. Or maybe Lupin had been nice to them as he was to everyone and only Draco's hatred for his teacher had kept him from seeing that…

Looking at the young figure of professor Lupin with fondness and caring, he caressed the little character of the photo, earning astonished glances from the four Marauders. "Why did he send me this? I thought he hated Black," Draco recalled.

"I have no idea. The man ought to be dead by now, he…" And light appeared in Riddle's mind. "He fell into the Shadow World two years ago. That made much noise at the Order's séances."

And Draco pondered the idea. If Black was still alive and sane, he could try taking him back. It would be difficult, since he had never actually tried this power even once, but maybe it could be done. But he felt bothered by this closeness between Lupin and Black that emerged from the photo, and his heart clutched tightly at the idea that they could have been in a relationship. He'd rather let Black rot inside the Shadow World than liberate a possible rival.

Sighing, he put off the light and laid back on the mattress. 'If Snape sent me that, it is likely that he wants Black back. Why? Does he want him? No, that's impossible; they hate each other. And how does he know I'll be able to do something? Or maybe he understood I want Lupin and send me that to show me I don't have a chance. But it doesn't make sense since Black is away with very few chances of return. And if Snape had chosen this photo to tell me to go slow on the werewolf? No, it truly isn't like Snape.'

Still, what stood out from the picture was Lupin's tenderness for the fallen man… But it had been long ago, maybe any feeling of desire had been drained from their relation by Azkaban…

o-

**Tuesday, September the 29****th**

When Draco awoke the next day, he had come to terms with his own heart, and realised that in no way would he give up Lupin to someone else. The idea of **his** werewolf getting bedded, kissed or cuddled by another man… He wouldn't be able to bear it. He'd kill Black.

And while having such thoughts, he was aware that it wasn't a proper Slytherinish or Malfoyish behaviour: Lupin was a Gryffindor and what purebloods considered a monster. Still, he couldn't change his feelings, and he had never held such affection for anyone before. His parents were his parents; Snape was his imaginary sensual lover and Lupin… Lupin was the delicate and fragile boyfriend.

Draco felt stupid. He knew that the DADA teacher was far from delicate. Wasn't he part of the Order? But the werewolf held such purity in him that Draco couldn't help wishing to cuddle in bed with the man and never let go. He wanted to see him smile, to hear him laugh, to feel his happiness… He was madly in love, and he'd bring back Black if it was what Lupin desired.

At the end of the day, he arrived at the Shrieking Shack, just before the transformation occurred. He was just out of the headmaster's office. He had spent more time in there in the last week than in the past six years, Draco thought with horror. Dumbledore had informed him of the article's repercussions. Parents had been owling him all day since its publication; they wanted to take their children out of school. The headmaster had soothed a majority of them into accepting a meeting in Hogwarts, where they would meet Draco and decide if there was a danger to fear. Draco had hated that: Dumbledore could have asked him before! But he had listened to the old man's excuses all the same. He understood that Dumbledore was in a very tight political situation and couldn't afford to loose more credit that he already had. He would meet the parents, for both of their sakes: should Dumbledore be too contested, and maybe fired, Draco would have difficulties fighting the Ministry and Voldemort at the same time. Let's not forget about the Order that would probably try to exchange Draco's life for their commander's reputation… The boy just hoped he could convince someone into accompanying him in that task. He didn't feel like facing handfuls of angry parents alone…

The DADA class in the afternoon had been difficult. No sooner had he entered, he had noticed Lupin's uneasy steps and flicks of wand. Akin to the precedent day, Draco had presented his paper: it read 'In every class he attends, Mr Malfoy shall work as he pleases, as long as it concerns the class in question.' It was an easier way for the professors: they didn't have to search for an occupation for his attention. Draco had taken the resolution to observe the students' work, assimilate the time they needed to cast spells, search for what he might use to counter them or such.

But after half an hour of intensive training for the Slytherins and Gryffindors, and of research and discovery for him, Draco had been too moved by the shivering professor to remain aside and watch. He had gotten up from his corner and accosted Remus at a moment when his intervention wouldn't be too noticed. It wouldn't do well if Lupin got pointed at for being pitied by a student.

"You shouldn't tire yourself, professor," Draco had said, "It is the full moon tonight and the potion needs you fit to work."

The werewolf had frowned at the child's concern. "Draco, I am your professor, and I have a class to teach." Much as he was deeply pleased by the boy's care for him, he couldn't allow it to come between him and his work too often. But he had to admit that he was beginning to weaken. The week had been exhausting, and he felt the usual wearing-out pain pervading his body to the core.

"I need to train defending against this spell, I could duel in your place," Draco had proposed.

The professor had refused. Of course… Bloody hardheaded Gryffindors, they were worse than Slytherins… At length, against Lupin's decision, he had insisted, shoved himself on the first scene of the class and duelled Zabini. Silence had filled the place. It was the first time ever they'd witnessed a fighting demonist.

_Flashback_

_Looked at by every student in the room, Draco didn't feel secure. He lacked the reassuring weight of his wand in his left hand. When, taking him to his word, Zabini took a duelling stance, Draco's breath stopped. He felt like a sacrifice being fed to a god, so naked without his weapon. He wanted to run away from there, to disappear before their eyes and to escape this very situation he alone had pulled himself in. But then he recalled that, alone, he wasn't anymore. The comforting presence of his new demon straightened up his back and asserted his sight. Hath'Gack was near, ready to fight for his master. _

_When, with a sigh of half-resolution, half-anger, Remus heard a student voice out the duel's start and the first curse flew in Draco's direction, hitting him headlong and sending him through the room, all breathes stopped. Was that the terrifying demonist they had heard of? It was ridiculous. Snickers appeared among the Slytherins and some Gryffindors laughed openly. Remus already regretted to having let the duel begin. He went to the lying boy in order to get him up and stop the butchery already. Not a month had passed since Draco had decided to follow this road and barely two days since he had been deprived of his wand. He wasn't ready for a duel yet._

_But the Malfoy child refused the hand he was offered. He went back to the stage and smirked. "You should have finished me off when you had the time."_

_Blaise mimicked him. "But then, where would be the fun in beating you up?" _

_The children eyed each other and during this little time of peace, Draco thought that maybe this was the friend he had searched for in his own house. Then, Hell broke loose in the room. _

"_Expellus!" shouted Blaise._

"_Irch Hath'Gack," Draco invoked._

_And the spell met with black smoke. Half a second later, Malfoy reappeared, casting a bolt of darkness at Zabini, who stumbled off of the stage. Draco waited till Blaise was back on and they went back to fighting. Their blood was heating up, their minds reaching the pleasure of destruction. Curses succeeded to hexes and dark spells to demon magic. _

_Soon, the room was filled with fire, and both boys were laughing, surrounded by flames. They had lost all sanity and battled with their bare hands between two curses. Students climbed up on chairs and tables to avoid the sparks, girls crying out their fear. Remus opened the doors to let them out, attempting to extinguish the fires._

_Draco panted, tired by the energy he was using. "Already finished, Malfoy?" sneered Blaise._

"_You wish." A rumbling cloud covered the room and flashes of fire shot from it to the ground, making it tremble on its foundations. They were alone in the class, and students continued observing them from the outside, mesmerised by the scene. The two fighters were surrounded by flames but none seemed to mind and none dared to flee, and they were laughing, laughing… _

_One particularly powerful fire shot got at Zabini's feet, exploding the wood of the stage and sending him right into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Draco stopped the fight._

_After class and three hours of detention with Dumbledore, Draco went out to the pitch, hoping for some calm time with himself. The old man had said nothing about the duel and the Slytherin suspected he had somehow foreseen it. After all, demonists were famous for the destruction they caused. Maybe that was the reason for the lightness of his punishment: three hours of detention and ten points for a class almost burned to ashes was totally disproportionate. Or simply Dumbledore needed him for the death-eaters and preferred not to tempt the devil. _

_Demonology had brought many changes in his life. He had no wand and no common magic left. He couldn't practice first year spells anymore. And he would never fly again… It had been no true surprise; still, the aching in his chest threatened to go out. The past year, he had been forced to abandon quidditch for safety. This year, he had also accepted the sacrifice, but to apprehend a full life without the game was hard on him. _

_He didn't see the Gryffindors training for the match against Slytherin that was to take place in a month or so. Weasley, however, didn't miss him. Draco's little fight in DADA in the afternoon had increased the redhead's animosity toward the blond. _

"_Spying on us, Malfoy?" barked the Gryffindor, "Can't get your team to gather some points without that?"_

"_If your memory didn't fail you, you'd remember I'm not on the team anymore." Draco went on his way to the forest, followed by the flying redhead. _

"_Yeah, right. Poor daddy was too afraid his little son would get hurt."_

_Draco's eyes flashed with scorn. "Beware of what you say, weasel, or you could meet your Fate sooner than expected."_

_Ron sneered with sarcasm. "I'm so afraid. You'll do what? Attempt to kill me? You never were very good at that in your famil…"_

_He couldn't finish his sentence as he fell of his broom and went running and screaming like a madman around the pitch. Peeking at his friend with care, Harry went to Draco. "What did you do to him?" he asked with reproach. Ron had been wrong treating the Slytherin as he had, but it didn't give Malfoy the right to attack him. The Gryffindor hadn't appreciated the little show in DADA; students could have got hurt and it was by pure chance that there had been none wounded._

"_Simple frightening spell. He'll stop running quick enough." On that, Draco went away._

_What Gryffindors didn't suspect thought, since Potter thought of him to be hated by his mates, was that after their little fight, Draco had pretty much found a good friend in Blaise Zabini, and that the Slytherin was the snake team's guardian. Malfoy wouldn't miss such an opportunity to help what remained of his house. _

_End of Flashback._

"Professor," Draco called before entering the Shack. He didn't mind walking in on Lupin undressing, quite the opposite in fact, but he was certain the man wouldn't appreciate. Effectively…

"Enter," growled a voice inside. Draco made his way to the professor, knowing what awaited him. "What were you trying to do, Draco? Have you lost your mind?" Moony was angry. The boy had duelled and taken the class's lead despite his having refused it; he had put his students into danger. "You haven't mastered your powers yet. Did you even realise you didn't control the destruction you caused?"

Draco bowed his head. He wasn't proud of that. And Lupin didn't know the worse: at the moment the duel had stopped, Draco had been on the verge of sending a deflagration spell. He wasn't sure anyone would have survived in the corridor, unless Dumbledore had intervened.

"You could have killed someone! I don't want any of this in my class again! And if you…" Moony faltered on his feet, tiredness and the imminent full moon getting to him.

"Professor!" Draco ran to him and made him sit down.

Lupin's breath was thick and short. The werewolf desperately tried to loosen his robe's collar and inhaled freely when Draco finally unbuttoned his robes. "The potion," he called. When Draco took out the flask and didn't let Remus grab it, he was suddenly afraid. He was in the Shack, on the point of morphing and the person that had the potion was the Malfoy heir, whom he had been yelling at seconds before. What if the boy wanted revenge? To refuse Remus his potion would be little come back for the yelling and reproaches. It wouldn't cause much harm to anyone: the Whomping Willow was closed and Draco still could get out in time. Only Moony would suffer from his morphing. But the dolour was something he had yearned to forget. He didn't want his body to ache again from a morphing; he'd do anything to avoid it.

"Draco," he called again, his voice already a rasp, "I need the potion." He felt the hair increasing on his back, the teeth getting longer. He'd hurt the boy if he morphed. Horrified, he saw Draco open the phial and drink it. "Please! I didn't mean to yell at you. Draco, I need the potion…"

His moaning was stopped by lips gluing to his. Draco's tongue forced them open and Remus felt a liquid being poured down his throat. With relief, his senses recognised the scent of the Wolfsbane. At length, Draco let go of him. "Salivate," the boy ordered.

"What?" What was happening? What did Draco just do? Why feed him the potion?

"Salivate, quick" the boy repeated. He took another gulp of the potion, apparently did just what he had ordered Remus to do, and kissed the man again, undressing him completely at the same time.

Relieved, Remus felt his body deforming with little pain, and his mind resisting the morphing. He howled slightly to reassure the boy that had been taking steps back. Draco sighed and leaned against a wall. "It was close, you know."

Remus woofed again, showing his agreement, and settled his head on the boy's lap, silently thanking Draco. He regretted his bad thoughts. The child had only wanted to help him all along. Draco scratched the wolf's head. "I think you want a little more explanation? Just like the ancient Wolfsbane, this new version is prepared with extreme care and is specialised for you. The wolf part in you is so strong that the potion has to be concentrated to fight it. But you didn't listen to me and exhausted yourself today. Your magical energy level was too low and you'd have hurt if not killed yourself if you had drunk it that pure. I just hope my saliva won't interfere with your system…" And if Draco was lucky, Lupin wouldn't think that the boy could simply have taken water before coming.

Remus lifted his head and looked at Draco. In opposition to his fearing speech, the boy was smiling smugly. He didn't know, though, what was passing through Draco's head. He wasn't aware that the boy had carefully memorised the taste of his professor's lips, the texture of his skin and the smell of his hair. Draco fought the increasing pleasure that menaced to give him away and got up so that the wolf wouldn't feel his burning flesh.

Soon enough, the sun was back and the Slytherin could relish in the weight of his professor's naked body on him. Some morphing cuts drew pearls of blood on the slightly tanned skin, and Draco covered Lupin with his robes then carried his precious bundle to the infirmary. And the boy was so happy that the body seemed to him as light as a feather.

o-

**Wednesday, September the 30****th**

Remus opened his eyes and blinked at the soft light coming from the raising sun. Looking around him, he recognised the Infirmary. It was a tickling that had awoken him: Draco was sitting on the bed next to his lying professor and carefully washing some cuts. The boy, noticing the arm he was taking care of had moved, turned to the man.

"How do you feel?" he asked with concern and slight relief at the werewolf's coming back to reality.

Remus tried to get up but immediately laid back, palms clutching his head and he moaned. Physically, he was fine, only his mind had difficulties adapting again to his human form. Draco gently hushed him, deposited his hands on the man's forehead and sent energy, soothing his pain.

Lupin felt the waves of warmth passing through him. It felt good, this immaterial snake slithering in his body and he moaned again, this time with pleasure. Draco inhaled deeply and passed his fingers in Remus' hair, savouring the sensations the contact generated in his nerves.

"Thank you," Remus murmured. Surely the child had gotten no sleep at all this night. The man would assure Draco would be allowed to stay in bed and could catch up his work. About work, he remembered the tensions of the past day, when the demonist had battled his first duel. "What were you trying to achieve, Draco?"

The child coughed slightly and averted the inquisitive brown eyes. How could he explain it? "Well… First I wanted you to rest. Then I got caught up in the fight."

Remus observed Draco for a long time, his still keen senses revealing to him that there was more to it that the child wanted to admit. "Caught up in the fight is a euphemism… And you know it."

The remembrance of his battle invaded Draco's brain. It had felt so good, to reign on the stage, to fight with so much power the entire class had fled. Energy had been flowing in his veins and he had been, at length, who he had always dreamt to be: someone important and feared. Why did they all want to contest him that? When it was Potter, they all applauded! "And what do you want me to say?" he inquired, containing the magnetic flux in his members that told him to destroy the contradiction. Why had the man asked this very question? Why couldn't he have left the matter in peace?

But Remus was more sensitive than Draco thought. The wolf in him sensed the raising anger and the danger it generated. "Nothing, if that is what you wish. But I would prefer to know the truth." Darkness was gaining in the boy and, from his own experience, he knew it had to be mastered before it degenerated.

Draco clenched his fists, fighting to control himself. His pupils dilated and Remus tried hard not to flinch at the atmosphere of power that emanated from the child. The boy was angry, it was understandable: his strength's legitimacy was contested. The wolf always acted the same when released. Shadows from the room grouped at their feet and Draco grasped the sheets, twisting them in his fingers.

"We all have darker parts, Draco. It's alright to let them out some times, only not in the presence of so many people," Remus reassured gently, ordering his mind to forget the increasing menace. The boy had to calm down and learn how to control himself.

A dark laugh echoed in the room as Draco was shaking with spasms. He loomed over Remus till their noses touched, his hand pressing on the man's chest. The demonist inhaled the wolf's smell. Despite the fear that Lupin wanted to ignore, Draco could feel the heart beating roughly under his fingers. "Beware of what you say, professor," he whispered, "or I shall take you at your word."

Remus' breath itched in his throat and he wondered where he had made an error. What was Draco meaning? Around them, the Infirmary was silent and empty. Draco had affirmed to Mrs Pomfrey that he could take care of his professor. No one would come. And suddenly, the man pinned under him answered. Draco's scent was of lust and the wolf had sensed it. Remus was naked under the sheets and he knew that the boy could feel his pleasure engorging.

And in a moment, everything disappeared. Shadows were back in their place, Draco was back at his side and his eyes were back to normal. The boy rustled the man's hair slowly as Remus' excitation calmed down. "You shouldn't let me treat you so, professor. One day, I will hurt you…" 'And that, I don't want, at any price,' he thought.

But Remus caught Draco's hand gently in his and squeezed it. "You won't. And I trust you with it."

Draco smiled softly. "But you're a Gryffindor fool…" The subject was conveniently put aside for the moment even if they both knew that it would have to be dug out eventually. "Professor… I need you to talk to me… about Black."

Remus blanched distinctively at the question. Why? What did the boy wanted to know? The memory flood back in his mind of the fateful day when he saw his best friend passing to the World of Shadows. When Sirius had been in Azkaban, he had made his best to forget the man but had never fully succeeded. And when he had come back… the dolour and fear had been even worse. During his schooling, Sirius had been Gryffindorishly foolhardy, always rushing into danger before thinking. Foolish of Moony to imagine that the prison would have changed him…

Remus had friends now and the Order was his family. But his body yearned for a touch that friends couldn't give, and his heart hankered after sensations that family couldn't create. There was only one people, that wasn't neither friend nor family… Draco had always denied these titles. And Draco's hands were hot and his eyes were warm. Just as Lupin dreaded the boy's dark side, he relished in his light one. To be immersed in the silver sight, to feel the waves of shadow energy running his body under Draco's fingers which were softly caressing the man's cheek. "What do you want to know?" he asked, scanning the lightening sky. Soon, children would be going to breakfast then to class. He would have to get up when all he wanted was to remain hidden here.

Realising the matter was more painful that he had thought, Draco hesitated and moistened his lips. "I have only one question. Back when you were in school and when he came back, what was your… relation with him?"

Remus's breath shortened and tears welled in his eyes. Draco kept on his caresses with much gentleness. "We were friends."

"Professor, I need a truthful answer," the boy insisted, knowing this wasn't the full truth. "It's important," he didn't add 'to me', not willing to reveal how much Lupin's answer could still influence him in his decision.

Remus inhaled deeply. "There were four of us. James, Sirius, Peter and I. James and Sirius were the best of friends. Peter and I were seconds. We still were all friends."

Draco sighed and averted looking at the man. He more than heard his professor's hesitation in duelling in old heart matters, and was aware of where this was leading them. "Did you love him?" His fingers softly pressed into the mattress, preventing their trembling. He hated the answer he could receive, but he was aware his infatuation was strong enough that he would go to the necessary lengths to see Remus happy.

Surprised by the straight question, the werewolf looked at Draco in the face. "Love? Of course I loved him, he was my best friend, but…" Vaguely, his still sensitive ears could hear the loud thumps of Draco's heart and he froze mid-sentence.

Draco was still averting his eyes. Filled with doubt and some nagging suspicion, Remus experienced both remorse and joy. His mind was tending to a thing he couldn't quite comprehend, or didn't want to. He wished he was misguided, that his mind was playing a trick on him. Could it be possible that Draco was inquiring about his sexual orientation?

Truth be told, he had always only be attracted to women, and he supposed he should tell the boy that. But if he had been wrong, Draco could take it badly and resent his professor for thinking such things. If he had been right, the young man's reaction could be even worse.

Remus had dealt with some schoolgirls' crushes back when teaching during Draco's third and sixth years, but never had he imagined he could be the recipient of gay love. And that of Draco Malfoy no less! He had nothing against gay people, it would have been much too hypocrite of him, being rejected as he was for being a werewolf. The notion that a man could enjoy more than his company had just never come to his mind.

It was a little frightening, this knowledge that someone with such a fragile heart as Draco could love him. The boy was one of the most intelligent he knew, would probably grow into one of the most powerful too, but his heart had always been heavily guarded. The number of people he trusted implicitly could be counted on one hand. His parents, Severus, his devil, and Remus had often expected that the young man would trust him. He'd never imagined it would be to that point.

What to answer though? What are you supposed to say when one you care for deeply inquires about your possible love for an old friend? Should he play the ignorant, acting as if he had never understood the implications of the questions? But he had lingered on his answer too long for that already.

Should he refuse the young man's affections? It would probably make an awful dent in their relationship, if not destroy it completely: Draco wouldn't bear the shame. And… Remus couldn't bear the loss.

Draco had become too important to him that he could risk losing him. The brat had slithered his way in Remus' heart and nested his place, growing into a very dear friend. Friend? That would be the problem, right?

So, the question rather came back to: could he love back Draco? Could he love a man?

Would it be that awful? There shouldn't be that much difference between loving a male or a female anyways. Except in the physical part... That, Remus wasn't certain he could manage. And he thought he should tell it to Draco now, before they both went in too deep. But his heart was wrenching in deny and envy. The feeling of joy that had taken him with the possibility of being loved ran just too deep to be moved.

He was being selfish, but he wanted to experience that bliss the longer he could.

Perfectly aware of Draco's tense body next to him, Remus laid his hand of the young man's and squeezed it. "If Sirius was still alive, I'd feel scared for him. What have you invented now?" He asked lightly. His voice, to his utter surprise, had lacked its usual sore tone. Maybe this could help him to at length come out of mourning and put his mind at rest.

Uncertain whether his professor was giving him permission or trying to change the conversation, Draco screwed his eyes ever so slightly. "Nothing much. I'm testing a new spell."

Foolish hope suddenly burnt Remus' core, as his brain was making connexions. Sirius had fallen into the Shadow World and Draco's little devil came from behind it. Was it possible that… No, Sirius was probably already dead from his time in it.

But he spent twelve years in Azkaban! Something many died of. And he survived… Remus' mind was reeling with possibilities, but his heart wasn't ready for the pain if he was wrong. He decided to let the matter rest and Draco do as he wished.

"Thank you," he just said, knowing Draco would understand he was aware of the unsaid words.

The young man shrugged and opened his mouth, as afraid to talk. He remained some second hesitating, before his bursting heart won. "I just want to see you smile," he admitted.

Remus was aware of how much bravery it had taken out of Draco to say it, to finally lay out his heart in the open. He squeezed the young man's hand even harder and rejoiced when Draco met his eyes. They both smiled, and his heart exploded with pleasure. Any future pain would be worth this.

"You know," Draco drawled, his face set between fear and cunning, "I still got some points."

"Even after burning my class?" Remus inquired with new amusement over the once controversial subject.

Draco smirked. "Dumbledore needs me, so he made me credit."

"And what would you do with these?"

"Well…" Draco bent toward him. It was the moment of truth, the instant which would definitely break their friendly conversation and enter more serious matters. "I would ask for a kiss."

For a split second, Remus was shocked and vaguely hurt that Draco would imagine paying to get a kiss. Then the logical part of his mind took the upper hand and he recalled that this was Draco MALFOY he was dealing with. Malfoys whose education was all about power and money.

Besides, he thought, haven't men always bought things to the women they liked in order to somehow buy their affections? Flowers, chocolate, tickets to the theatre, whatever… This was courting: a way to show that you were wealthy enough to meet the desires of your intended.

Moreover, he suddenly realised, Draco was willing to give away his points! Not just money, which his family possessed in unhealthy proportions, but the soon to be most obvious proof of his school success. Draco was a very talented student. Whenever he stopped trying to get the Gryffindors into problems, the global number of points he earned grew quite quickly, rivalling with that of Hermione.

That Draco would abandon an obvious way to taunt the whole school with his intelligence stroked Remus' ego.

"A kiss?" He repeated, "Are you certain you have enough points for that?"

Draco paused to think. "Would fifty points be enough?"

Remus pretended to consider the number. "Hum… I suppose it will do."

Draco's face brightened up considerably, his usually clear blue eyes taking a tint of silvery pleasure. He shivered in anticipation as Remus was redressing in the bed. He didn't dare move as the man bent slowly toward him, his hands resting in his own. His breath stuck in his throat and he could only look at the lips descending toward him… to finally kiss his cheek.

"Hey!" Draco exclaimed, "You cheated."

"I'm expensive," Remus remarked with half a smirk.

"You're certainly evil." Draco thought about pouting to get his way, but the challenge was clear, and it wouldn't be said a Slytherin and a Malfoy would back off a Gryffindor's defy. "I'll get more points."

End of Chapter 6.


	7. Chapter 7 : To tame a devil

**Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 7: To tame a devil**

**Saturday, October the 31****st**

One month later, Draco's declaration was still carved in Remus' mind like silver on rock. He had been down, he had been lost, but these words now illuminated his days. He woke up thinking of them, remembering Draco's eyes on his, Draco's body on his and Draco's breath mixing with his own. He fell asleep imagining Draco next to him, Draco in his bed, his being Draco's.

Aware of the dangers, the boy had never acted but once and then had only conserved his nice attitude toward his professor. Only little change in their life: Remus and Severus each trained Draco once a week. Just as Lupin needed an outlet for the werewolf, the Slytherin had to release his aggressive tension if he wanted to avoid fights and disasters. When they had thought of the idea and talked about it with Dumbledore, the old man had proposed himself for the task. Strangely, Draco had refused. Remus had thought that the boy would jump at the opportunity to test his powers. But, after the first lesson, the child had explained:

"My main power doesn't come from fire or shadow," Draco had said to Remus who was already stunned at how powerful the boy had become, "but from maledictions. As you may have noticed, I didn't use any. And this, for the simple reason that I don't know how to clear you from them. If I were to fight Dumbledore, even as training, I would lose control and try to win by using them. I'd probably lose anyway, but I can assure you that he wouldn't come out of it unscathed. Since he still has to defeat Voldemort, I'll defy him later."

Remus had smiled at the child's thoughts. But now, Remus was beginning to worry. These last few days, Draco had been unusually tired and grumpy, and he didn't understand why. They hadn't heard of You-Know-Who again, and the attacks on muggles had stopped; the Ministry had left them in peace… Maybe it was that: it was too calm.

Some days after the full moon, the parents came to Hogwarts. Remus didn't recall having ever seen so many adults in the school before. All wanted to see the demonist; some reporters had even tried to enter, passing for parents. But inside Salazar's lab, the story had been different…

"_I don't want to go," murmured Draco while observing the crowd, hidden behind the lab's tainted window. _

"_Draco…" Remus tried to reassure, gently putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, "It will be alright. We're all here with you."_

"_You say nothing will happen… How can you know? Maybe there are aurors in the wood, waiting for me to make an error, that one attack me and that I retaliate…"_

_Lupin hushed him softly and caressed his face. "You're overreacting. There's no auror in the forest and you won't have to retaliate because no one will attack you."_

_But Draco couldn't calm down. "There'll be a problem, I know it… I'm no Gryffindor, professor, I don't want to die and I don't want to be locked and gagged for the rest of my life… I'd prefer tempting the Shadows than these parents…"_

"_No!" Remus cried out in despair, suddenly very afraid at the idea, "I forbid you! Draco!" He regarded the child with fright. "Promise me never to go there!" The image of Sirius falling through the drapery still haunted him. If Draco was to run into the Shadow World… he wouldn't resist losing the two people he cared the most for…_

_Draco hesitated before answering. "That, I can't. Professor, you have to understand. You wizards can apparate to flee. I have nothing. And… if I'm strong one against one… I can't fight two people at the same time. Less one hundred of them."_

_Remus sighed. "Again the parents… Draco, you have to stop worrying." And the teacher was reminded of a harsh comment from a Gryffindor, how Draco would certainly use the reunion to show off. What a bunch of imbeciles they could be sometimes. He hoped he hadn't been like that in class…_

He observed the boy striding to a cupboard and serving himself a drink… What was it? Draco was minor; he wasn't allowed to drink alcohol… But who cared anyway? Draco was clutching his glass so tightly the professor feared it would break in his hand. And… "Draco…" he frowned, "What happened to your finger?" Through the crystal, he had noticed a very red spot on the boy's index finger.

"_What? That?" The boy showed his finger. Remus grasped it, careful not to hurt the child, and observed it more attentively. The last phalanx had been scratched almost near blood. "It itched. I tried a potion but it didn't work. It's better now though. Doesn't hurt anymore."_

_It was peculiar. "Do you know what caused it?"_

"_No, I thought a splinter but it wasn't that. Maybe a bad reaction to an ingredient."_

"_Draco!" called Snape from the door that he had just passed. "You have to come down."_

"_I know…" the child sighed._

_Severus fully entered the room and pressed his hand on Draco's shoulders just as Remus had done a few minutes earlier. "I kill the first that tries to harm you." Ok… That was straighter that Remus' speech. 'A Slytherin to reassure another Slytherin. It's perfectly normal…' Remus thought. But he hurt nonetheless. He had wanted to be Draco's stick this day. _

"_Professor…" Draco spoke to Severus as gently as he spoke to Remus, "I have something to do first. I'll join you in the Great Hall, when the parents are in there." The air in the room was suddenly hot and constrained as Draco's voice was resolute. Snape eyed Draco with wonder, glanced at his colleague, and went away._

_Draco remained some seconds staring at the closed secret door. Air was getting thicker, and Remus felt sweat on his back. The boy marched slowly to him, barely letting space between them. Their eyes were gazing at each other's and Remus was tempted to bend down to the sweet lips. _

_And suddenly a joyous laugh erupted in the room. Draco shook with obvious happiness and his cheeks reddened at the feeling. Stopping as abruptly that he had begun, the boy leaned his hands on Remus' chest and kissed him. _

_It was no more than a touching of the lips but to Remus, their immobility and near communion was the most erogenous sensation he had ever felt. He knew that he was a professor, an adult, that it was forbidden by law, that Draco's parents would disapprove but at this moment, he didn't care. He held the boy's waist and let his tongue travel the rosy lips. Not uttering a sound but raising his hands to Remus' hair, Draco allowed him entrance. They didn't battle and only exchanged soft caresses until a noise reminded them there were people waiting for them._

_Draco gave the man a last peck, and arm in arm, they went to the door and only let go when they remembered the paintings. It would do no good for them to whisper about a teacher-student relation. _

_When Draco had seen the mass of parents, he had been afraid. Frightened that one would attack him in a fit of anger and that he would be forced to back the spell because, as a demonist, he knew no other way to defend himself than striking back; but also scared that Lupin, whom he had asked the company of, would act like a Gryffindor and launch before the boy and take the blow that was aimed at Draco. And the more Lupin had tried to reassure him, the more he had gotten anxious. He preferred professor Snape's protection for, being a Slytherin, the man was more prone to stay alive and unharmed. Still, he hadn't wanted to disappoint the werewolf, and thus the kiss._

_But for all the trust he had in the Potions Master, at the sight of these hundreds of eyes scrutinising him avidly, some by curiosity, some by hatred, Draco wanted no more than to turn tail and run. _

_The parents observed the demonist entering the Great Hall, followed by what seemed to be a teacher. They had imagined a sort of half-undead, dressed in black, eyes shinning with malice and love for hurt and terror. They saw a boy with the silver and green uniform of the Slytherin, the very alive and aristocratic appearance of a Malfoy and the obvious want to be elsewhere. The surprise caused the Hall to fall silent. _

_Using it to their advantage, Dumbledore introduced Draco. _

"_What are your intentions?" asked a parent._

_Draco turned toward the voice, not locating the person. "My intentions?" he repeated, aghast, "Do I need to have some? Much as I dislike the idea, I'm here to study, just as every student."_

_Some mouths turned into snickers. Like his house's colour, the boy had a silver tongue. The Hall became silent again. "Mr Malfoy is here to answer every question you could have concerning the security in this school. Such an opportunity won't happen twice," commented Dumbledore playfully, amused at the uncertainty of the adults in front of Draco. They were less virulent than in their letters now that they were faced with the core of the problem. _

_Murmurs travelled the crowd. Could they believe a word of what a demonist said? For all they knew, it could be lies, orchestrated by the Malfoys. Still, Dumbledore seemed quite sure when he affirmed the boy would harm no one… _

_But suddenly, Draco smirked. "You're right. I lied." He waited for his speech to produce the desired effect. "My true plans are to destroy the school, kill Dumbledore and Potter and take Voldemort's place as ruler of the world."_

_Mouths gaped and eyes came out of their sockets. They had been right! He was dangerous! He had to be stopped! Aurors… "Seriously…" Draco went on with a condescending tone and an arched eyebrow, "Doesn't that seem a little too whopping for a single person?"_

Such comments had saved the day. The calling of the little devil at Dumbledore's demand had made the rest. Karnar was too sweet not to please. And thanks to that, the month had been calm. That was, till a week ago. Remus didn't like Draco's recent nervousness, especially since the boy refused to explain it and persisted in claiming he was perfectly fine. The reason couldn't be from class either because Draco's notes had never been higher. What was it then?

Before a lesson, Remus had heard rumours how Draco would have bought two costumes for the Ball. He had first thought the event to be the cause of the boy's unusual behaviour, for Draco had refused each proposition he was made of a partner but what with the way the Slytherin smirked each time his professor tried to broach the subject, there was a chance that it wasn't that either.

Moreover, Dumbledore wasn't an imbecile or blind. The old man had noticed and probably understood that the link that joined Draco and his professor was tightening… He had talked about it to Remus. And, over the month and despite the growing love Remus felt for the boy, he was aware that such a relation would have difficulties to go on. Draco was not yet of age and a pureblood, heir of the greatest fortune of England. The Slytherin hadn't sized up the reaction that his father would have. Lucius would do everything in order to stop what hadn't already begun. Draco's bond with his father would be destroyed in the process and that Remus wouldn't let happen. Besides, Draco was so young; he had plenty to experiment, especially about love. Moony was hurt at the idea, but that was what had to be done. He wouldn't permit his relationship with the boy to go past friendship. The kiss had been an error that he wouldn't repeat. And maybe… maybe in some years, when the boy was grown, if he was still interested, which was pretty impossible, then…

o-

The same day

Arthur slouched in the chair of his study, looking absent-mindedly at the piles of papers that crushed his desk under their weight. It had been some months now since he had last felt true desire to work in here. It wasn't that he didn't love his work anymore; on the contrary, he still found every muggle invention fascinating; but he felt confined in this part of the Ministry, as far away from the real world.

Despite a lessening in the Death-eaters' attacks, war was raging outside, and he wanted to help more than he currently did. The recent happenings in the school and the Order achieved to convince him there was much coming.

During the past year, the situation in the ministry had worsened more that he had ever thought possible. Before, every wizard had only been regarding Dumbledore with admiration, but You-Know-Who had changed that. After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, some aurors had considered that Azkaban was too low a sentence for convinced Death-eaters. They ought to be killed. But Hogwarts' Headmaster had refused to hear their words of hatred. This was about justice, not revenge. Thus, guards around the prison had been reinforced.

Then all had gone downhill from there. Some reproached the old man for taking part in too many of the Minister's decisions, some for not doing enough against You-Know-Who. Arthur suspected Fudge himself was creating rumours.

He had known Dumbledore for a long time, more than forty years in fact, and, as little as they were, the signs of time and tiredness were showing in the old face. These last months had been the worst. When Snape had been discovered as a spy, Arthur had thought that it wouldn't change much for the Order. But he had understood how wrong he had been and how precious the professor had been to their side. The information that Snape had lent them over the years had helped save hundreds of innocents that were now dying outside.

He had no idea how, but the aurors had then heard of the man being a death-eater. Arthur had never liked Snape: he was a Slytherin, someone that had worked for You-Know-Who, tortured and killed; but he had paid and suffered for that and Arthur respected it. Still, he knew even less how the dark mark could have disappeared from the man's arm. Maybe Dumbledore had found a way… Or…

There was a rumour that the young Malfoy had performed a very dark spell on his father to prevent him from being sent back to Azkaban. Ron had told his parents how the junior had been revealed as a champion in Potions and created a Duplicative Draught.

The defence of the Malfoys was the last blow to the wizard's credibility. Everyone had been aware of Lucius Malfoy being a Death-eater. On him, too, the mark had disappeared. As much as Arthur hated the man, he agreed that none of the Order's members was capable of predicting You-Know-Who's actions as the high lord did. He had accused Malfoy of being a spy, but Dumbledore and Snape had searched the man's mind. He was no menace.

Draco was though. A demonist, no less! For centuries, these people had remained a legend, and no one had ever suspected that they could one day reappear. But they had and in the form of the most dangerous child. Still… Malfoy was on their side, wasn't he? Arthur doubted it. But there was this unexpected friendship of the boy with Remus. Where would that lead them? The child had changed with the contact of the man: he was now more respectful and obviously cared for his teacher. Arthur was still reticent about according his confidence to the Malfoy junior, but the child was on the right track. What bothered him, though, was that Draco showed no will to destroy You-Know-Who. He simply didn't care.

And… There was… Ah, what was Dumbledore hatching now? When the old man had learnt of his twin sons having released their new 'Tricks and Treats' catalogue, he had immediately invited them to Hogwarts for Halloween. They had departed that morning and had sent a message some hours ago about how many assorted tricks they had already sold. And no doubt they would use them personally at the Ball…

o-

What was called Riddle Manor was in reality a large impressive house concealed in forest that hadn't been taken care of for decades and looked more abandoned than alive. The previously lavish, gold-embroidered gate of the lands was pitted with rust, the road that used to lead to the front double door had been overgrown with nettles, and ivy hid every stone of the walls. The upkeep of the inside hadn't been better seen to: shabby tapestry was hanging over the walls from which all paintings had been removed, leaving white marks on the paintwork. He couldn't bear their sight; they reminded him of where he came from, of his dirty blood of a father. The best thing that had ever happened to this man was his death.

Dusty floors were printed by steps that led toward the inside of the house, where a huge door kept the living room closed. The wizard didn't want to be disrupted. Voldemort was facing the cracking fireplace, holding an open book that he wasn't reading from. His sight was on the script, but his mind was fixed elsewhere.

One month had passed since he had first heard about his other part, his adolescent self that he had locked in a book and that Lucius had attempted using against their enemies. At first, he had refused to believe it but time going by, he was forced to recognise the evidence: their spirits were linked together and, faintly but surely, he felt his other mind, so akin and yet so different, looming from the castle. Then how was it that only now did the bond reveal itself to him? Why not before? Had Draco done something that would somehow have awoken a sleeping part of young Tom? Ah, Draco… Such a promising child. A true Slytherin that possessed the essence of what made the glory of this house: its ambition! He would be the first of a series. Now that Voldemort knew that wizards could be trained as demonists, he'd create an army of them. The problem resided in the fact that every death-eater's child had already been taught the dark arts. Lucius had been the only one… Why? Why had he refused to teach Draco dark magic? He had claimed wanting to wait till the boy was older but it could have been a lie… Well, he would only have to recruit younger death-eaters…

And if he could, he would have Draco training them. This boy and his skills couldn't be left to Dumbledore. Voldemort would use anything to achieve his goal and get revenge on the old fool at the same time. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to save Draco, and the boy would bring their downfall. Still, the dark lord knew the way the child worked… Draco would never harm either of his parents or the damned traitor or the blasted werewolf. What had got into him, to befriend a werewolf?? But such an alliance could provide great help, for Voldemort had long wanted the support of that cursed race. If a death-eater were to take a werewolf under his protection, they'd soon show good will…

So that only left convincing the boy. The scope of his affections wasn't vast and apart from the four people that filled his life; Draco cared about no one. But what did he think of muggles?

o-

Draco was tired of things the way they were. He felt the energy gathering inside of him more and more everyday with no outlet. His training with Snape and Lupin didn't suffice anymore. He couldn't let go of the rage that boiled in his heart with no reason, of the thrill for power that overwhelmed his spirit, for he would hurt them in the process.

His mind was shadowing and his desires blurring. His demons sensed his lust in their presence and it helped nothing. They didn't understand why he couldn't mate with the two men. Polygamy was common in the Demon World. Whether the dominant was male or female didn't matter; only its power did. And Draco was powerful enough to tame both of them into submission. But he didn't seem to wish to…

Love was a concept they couldn't grasp. They knew about admiration, lust and possessiveness, even fidelity and protectiveness. But why was Draco showing protection to people that weren't his own yet? Didn't he fear that someone would come and steal them? Especially the one that humans called a werewolf. He was almost one of them, nearly a demon. Why wasn't their master claiming him as his own? Draco had said he wanted to do so, when he had introduced Lupin and Karnar while in the room inside Malfoy Manor.

Was the old man the reason? This human showed kindness just as demonists did with their demons, but he wasn't a demonist… Still, he radiated power and that only meant he wasn't to be trusted. Maybe he would attempt to harm the master?! Hath'Gack had said he was a mind-scanner; would he try controlling Draco?

The young man was currently getting dressed in the lab. Blaise had been surprised at that action. Nobody would try attacking Draco in the dorms, especially with him there. The situation with the Slytherins had improved over the month. The presence of Tom had been decisive. Draco was often seen openly talking with the spirit, in corridors or during meals. They shared friendship. This situation had created a rip in the future death-eaters' minds. If the dark lord was so perfect, how was it that his own past self enjoyed the company of a Malfoy, one that had refused a proposition that had been made to him by Voldemort himself? Or maybe it was a trick and Tom was spying for the dark lord. The last pro-death-eaters gripped hard at that thought, for all the little convincing it seemed…

Finally, the hour had come. Draco got out the lab and joined Blaise in the common room. They put on their masks and headed for the Great Hall. The place was already full of chatting people, creating a mass buzz. They waited at the entrance: Blaise's date for the Ball should be arriving soon. During the time, they talked about the match of the day. Slytherin had lost, of course, but by ten points only. Draco and Tom's sessions of spying on the Gryffindor team had bared fruits. Blaise was the only one aware of it. While the snakes trained, he had vaguely given tips to their players on strengths and weaknesses of the reds, hints that had been discussed the previous evening with Draco. The Gryffindors had understood too late in the game that all their tactics were known. Potter had caught the snitch anyway, but by that moment, their chasers had collected enough points to almost counter the hundred and fifty that the bloody Golden Boy would never miss. Little was to say the Gryffindors weren't happy. Draco inwardly thanked his idea of the Masked Ball: this way, he should be able to pass a globally calm evening. He had painted his hair silver and grown it longer then tied it up. Incredible what Potions could do… It wasn't the best costume, but it should be able to hide his identity for a time. Blaise's date finally arrived, a nice sixth year Ravenclaw from what he had said. She effectively looked fine, studious but still of good company. Speaking of company…

Draco spotted Professor Lupin entering the Hall and walking to Professor Snape and his companion for the Ball. Even with the mask on, he could never have missed the man; the fragrance of his perfume attracted Draco like light did butterflies. Just in time to avoid crushing his plan, he brushed his hand over the man's arm, an act that got Lupin to turn. "Can I help you?" the professor asked gently.

Draco smiled. He hadn't been recognised. 'Truly, professor, you should be more attentive. It could be anyone!' he thought with amusement. "Yes," he said, "to a dance."

Lupin gaped slightly then chuckled at the situation. "Ah… I'm sorry but you must mistake me."

Draco smiled seductively and bent on the professor, his lips lightly touching Remus' chin. "You're right, I must have mistaken. You surely aren't the man I waited for all month." Just at this moment, music began. 'Perfect timing.'

Lupin frowned and contemplated more attentively the young man he was facing. Then realisation burst in his eyes. "Draco…"

"The one and only," the young man murmured in his ear, swiftly and imperceptibly dragging his professor toward the middle of the Hall where couples were already dancing.

"Someone will recognise us," Remus complained vaguely. He shouldn't be accepting this; he ought to be resisting. It was dangerous, contrary to his resolutions. But the secrecy that surrounded the pair and the fantasy of a dance in the company of the handsome boy was appealing… Besides, he couldn't very well break the news to Draco that he wanted to suspend any relation during the Ball; it would only aggravate the problem. So he let himself be led. And it would be lying to claim he regretted it…

Draco hadn't even bothered replying. He had always hated his dance lessons, and putting them in practice with Pansy had been more of a bad experience than a real enjoyment, but this... His left arm was firmly curving around the older man's waist, his right hand raised to the air, delicately holding Lupin's; their bodies were modelled to each other and Draco could feel the heat rising from the man, the slight hesitation and fear at being discovered, his beating heart and his softly flushed cheeks. The world had never been so perfect.

In the other part of his mind, Draco heard Professor Snape conversing with him. He saw himself noticing Tom and chatting nicely…

o-

Severus examined his reflection in the mirror. Dumbledore had insisted that the professors also wore masks for the Ball. He had vainly tried to contest the order, stating that should an incident occur the students had to be able to locate their teachers quickly; the old man hadn't wanted to hear of his complains. So he found himself staring at his own face yet he couldn't recognise it. The feeling was weird and he was reminded of his death-eater years.

When it was time, he joined the staff in the Great Hall, cursing the difficulties he had with finding them among the older children. At length, he noticed Albus. The headmaster had charmed his beard to look like a big tie. Severus rolled his eyes at the old man's childishness and made to join him when a younger one accosted him.

The face was hidden, just like every other person in the Hall, and Snape observed the exposed parts of the stranger. The shimmering play of light on short black rustled hair, the glint of intelligence in deep blue eyes, the lingering smile at the white lips' corner, who could that be? He frowned. "What do you want?" he asked, not wanting to reveal his ignorance.

The grin increased and Severus pondered for a time if this could be Potter playing a trick on him. But no, the azure orbs hold too much malice for the boy to be a Gryffindor. Such an expression could only be allocated to a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Preferably the second choice, for Severus would deeply regret that someone with so promising mental capacities would have fallen to this house of brainwashing bookworms.

"To ask you a question," answered the boy in a rather low voice that Snape scarcely heard above the chattering of the students.

Severus eyed the skies. Couldn't he be left alone for the rest of the evening? If he had accepted this masquerade of the masks it had been in hope that he would go unnoticed. "Then ask already and don't make me lose my time," he snapped.

The secret eyes screwed up in pleasure, the face creased into a smile, and Severus feared the worst. "Are you sure you could afford it?" the silvery lips inquired.

Severus arched an eyebrow, attempting to remember if he had done something remotely stupid recently that would justify the question. Many examples came to his mind, the last being his visit to a certain institution in Sinshoe Alley, said establishment being a brothel. His looks not allowing him to find company for a night, he had resigned himself in the purchasable one. But no longer had he entered the house that his sight had been drawn to a light blond haired young man, a whore whose airs he hadn't been able to resist. And when he had come, deep inside the boy's body, it was Draco's name that he had called. At that moment, he had known he was doomed. "Afford what?" he asked.

"The challenge."

And all was suddenly clear. The object of his nights' desire was in front of him. "Malfoy," Snape acknowledged. "If you're referring to the Wolfsbane, you should retire your participation. It will save you from humiliation." Truly, he hadn't thought that Draco had taken the declaration literally. At that time, he had been preparing the base for a new potion, one that would sever the connection between Potter and Voldemort. He had been continuing it since then with Draco's help. When the boy had come and seen him, Severus had lied about the potion, still doubtful of where Draco's loyalties lay. He had deeply regretted the lies. And now he learnt that Draco had been working on the Wolfsbane since then. He would have to make some researches; he couldn't let the boy win the challenge!

Draco chuckled. "It is you that should worry professor. As I told you a month ago, I have a totally new idea about it, one that could revolutionise the Potions Art. Are you sure you can pit your experience against my novelty?" he sneered. This affirmation was far from the truth. Apart from the idea, he had nothing concrete, having put all his efforts of the past month in his demonology, animagus lessons, and Potter's potion. Yet, it could only do good to stir the Potions Master in fighting him. Especially with the heat and lust that he could feel erupting from the man's lower parts at the mention of competition.

Snape snorted at the simple suggestion that a child could undo him. Inwardly, he was extremely curious and slightly stressed as to what the child could have invented. Draco had good ideas, and it wouldn't surprise Severus that one of them could effectively lead to a new and more effective version of the Wolfsbane. Still, to say that it could revolutionise their art… Was it a good lie, or had Draco really discovered something incredible? Severus wished he could search the boy's mind for the answer but he wasn't ready yet to test Draco's trust in him. He wouldn't have a second chance.

Draco glimpsed at two people in the middle of the Hall as the music began. Snape scowled. What was Lupin thinking, dancing with a student? Who was stupid enough, anyway, to invite a werewolf to a dance?

"Where were you?" Draco suddenly inquired of the air next to him.

Severus had seen enough conversations between the two of them to understand that his favourite child was conversing with the spirit, the spirit who, he was sure, had much to see in the Gryffindor's almost defeat of the morning, so couldn't be that bad anymore…

Draco smirked. Tom was going according to the plan, a scheme that the spirit ignored and that he would ineluctably be victim of. Then, all would be for the best. Who had thought he was too childish and spoiled to be a Slytherin? Who had thought the house had definitely gone to shadows? Well, they would be surprised. He sent Tom to look after the next part of his plan then turned back to the surprised professor.

"Is there a reason why you order him to watch the girl?" asked the man. What had Draco invented now? What was his point? The boy had many secrets, more than Severus dared to count. And he was hurt at the idea, because, even if Draco had forgiven him, such an attitude proved that he hadn't forgotten. To recall there was a time when the child told him anything, any thought of his mind…

Draco eyed him pensively before a smirk marked his lips. "Speak your mind, professor. Do you think there is a reason?" He paused as Snape screwed his eyes imperceptibly, resisting the urge that told him to search the boy's mind. "We will hamper the dancers if we stay here. Would you say no to a drink?"

Snape snorted and they headed for a corner of the Hall. Draco served them both a glass of pumpkin juice. He sniffed it, hoping there was no surprise of the Weasley twins in it. He didn't fancy turning red and gold or having corns on his forehead for the rest of the evening, just like what some first years had been victim of during lunch. He sipped some of the liquid and when no reaction occurred, he handed over the other glass to the sitting professor.

Severus suppressed a smile, sensitive at the attention. Indeed, he was doomed. Doomed to fail in resisting the boy's charms and his own lust at the sight. But it wouldn't be said that he'd have given in without resisting, and before falling to the Demon Master's claws, he'd make sure to tame the devil.

He remained silent, listening to the noises of the Hall. Suddenly, he frowned. These two identical costumes, it could only be the twins. What was Dumbledore thinking of, inviting them over? If the old man wanted to perfect his collection of tricks he could simply visit them at their shop. Or maybe he feared that, during his absence, Draco would invent another game…

The twins were surrounded with a group of children, probably Gryffindors. They were attentively bent over a table… and was that a map?… Oh no! This was a masked ball, no Marauders Map allowed! Snape posed his glass on a near table, got up in a rush but stopped just as abruptly. One of the children was pointing at people on the dance floor. Lupin and his partner exactly. Why were they so interested in the two dancing men?

Next to him, Draco had also gotten up, noticing the attention of his professor. He screwed his eyes at the sight of the Map, realising the great interest the group of children focused on. "What is that?" he murmured. And then Severus remembered: Draco had never been told about the item. The pupils of the child showed slight concern. Why? Snape observed anew the couple. It was all he needed to understand. He turned back to his masked companion, and they returned to their seats, not without a last glance from Draco at the Gryffindors.

Severus grasped and fingered his glass, his heart racing at the realisation that he was no more than a pawn in a game. "Why are you here?" he asked, looking the child in the eye. If Draco wanted the werewolf, so be it, but why bother with keeping company to an old Potions master? Draco smirked as he arched an elegant eyebrow, amused by the slight jealousy he sensed in the voice. But envious, the Potions Master had no reason to be.

By being exposed a spy, hadn't he been his who uprooted Draco from his prejudiced education? That first showed the boy Voldemort maybe wasn't his to follow? Both taking pity of the other man and wanting to raise the stakes of their relation, he opened his mind and suddenly, Severus saw.

Memories of a child, observing with passion and starry-eyed reverence the hands of an adult working through the steam of Potions Art. Recollections of a teenager, drinking avidly his professor's words then attempting to break in the library's Forbidden Section in order to unearth the Master's old essays whom his mother had vaguely mentioned some months prior. Remembrance of a young man, looking far ahead of him to the dark figure in the distant horizon, swearing to himself that he would catch up on the adult.

Plunging in Draco's deepest memories, he vaguely felt his heart swelling in his chest. A near-baby, beaming with pride and joy as he was being lifted up by the Potions Master after this one had had enough of the boy's pestering, gripping at the older man's robes so as not to fall, eyeing greedily the potion boiling softly underneath him, wondering how all the disgusting things the Master had put in there could create such bright blue colour. Severus remembered it all too well, aside with the self-esteem he had experienced at being the centre of attention and veneration of a child.

Then the near adult, thoughts filled with lust for his professor. Pure lust. Desire to possess and be possessed. Images of carnal and primal sex.

Plunging in Draco's deepest dreams, he vaguely felt his pants tighten around him. Imaginary Draco was doing… things to imaginary Snape… It was… Severus came back to reality in time to lift the glass to his lips and swallow back the juice with a moan that menaced to denounce him.

At the taste of the liquid in his throat, his eyes rounded in fear and he choked, his heart stopping in its course. His mind blurred and his legs abandoned him, letting his body fall to the floor before unconsciousness claimed him.

"Professor!" cried out Draco, kneeling on the stone ground and removing the mask to tap the man's cheeks. But Severus didn't awake. His raspy breath was failing, threatening to stop anytime.

Students formed a circle around them and someone, who Draco assumed in his panic to be Dumbledore, levitated the professor and headed to the Infirmary. They were on the way when Madame Pomfrey came to meet them. She caught Snape's wrist and pronounced spells to get the non-beating heart to work. Without success. In a dash, Draco ran to the Infirmary, forestalling the others by some meters, collected herbs on the shelves of a cupboard and frankly began melting them together…

o-

Ron was raging. Seventeen goals! The Slytherins had passed seventeen goals by him! It was impossible! Never had they played so good on his weaknesses. His bad mood extended to the full team. They had been tricked. Someone had spied on them all along. There wasn't much wonder who… The twins reddened with anger when they were narrated the matter. But Malfoy wouldn't go unpunished. They'd make sure that he never tried that again! The Ball granted them the perfect opportunity to humiliate the blonde. They'd better not miss it.

In the Great Hall, they dispersed to find Malfoy, but the masks prevented them from discovering the snake. When the music began, they opted for another tactic. Harry took the Map out of a pocket. He was against such measures, having suffered much from public humiliations, but Malfoy had gone too far. The blonde couldn't be allowed to cheat at their expense!

They scanned the Map, looking for the wanted name, dozens of attentive eyes praying that it would appear before them so that they could exact their revenge. And suddenly, a hand extended toward a dot. They had found it.

The dot was moving on the dance floor, along with… Moony?! What was the man doing with this rat? Hadn't he noticed how the Slytherins had almost undone the Gryffindors during the match? Hadn't he understood the snake had played his part in it?

"Let's see if Moony will stay with him after that," muttered Ron, taking his wand out, followed by some players. But before he could hex Draco with a well-concentrated Furnunculus charm, Hermione snatched his wand away.

"Are you mad?" she uttered.

The Gryffindors frowned at the interruption. "He spied on us. It's fair comeback," said Harry for their cause.

She tilted her head with disapprobation. "And I agree, but not this way."

"Why?" they almost whined. "After that, Malfoy will never think of bothering us again!"

She sighed soundly. "I'm disappointed, especially with you, Harry." She sounded like McGonagall. "What do you expect? That Malfoy will accept his humiliation and bury the hatchet? He'll be angry and he'll do everything he can to bring you down after that. Even forget of his good resolutions…" Her pupils were dilated, intent on him to understand what she was talking about. Dumbledore had said it enough: Malfoy could be a very important addition to the Order, especially now that he had proved he could work with Harry without killing him. But even after the demon's incident, when Draco had gone to the headmaster and accepted to help them with the potion, the boy hadn't sworn fidelity to the Light. He still doubted it was his road to follow.

Hermione had gone to Dumbledore to discuss her doubts, for the old man was the only one that could deflect her suspicions. He had entrusted her with maintaining the calm among the Gryffindors. He had taken time to explain to her the problem that Draco caused. Many people came to the Order for help because they were repulsed by the bloodshed of the death-eaters or because they had family to protect. Draco was different. He didn't care about the muggles, had never and would probably never either. Moreover, he was important enough, what with his potions and his demonology, for Voldemort to accept not to harm some people in exchange for his services. The dark lord would certainly proposition Draco soon with a contract that would specify the people the boy would take away from the battlefield.

Draco had no obvious reason to join the Light; the dark lord offered him amnesty and power when the Ministry threatened him with prison and death; yet he helped them anyway. 'Why?' Dumbledore had asked with a smile and a gleam in the eye. He had given no explanations.

But as Hermione watched the Map and the two plots dancing in accordance, she needed none.

If the Gryffindors humiliated Draco in front of the only person that kept him to the Light, his pride would be so tainted that he'd surely not remain long. But how could she make a bunch of angry teenagers understand that?

Thankfully, Harry lowered his wand. He hadn't realised all the implications but had known Hermione long enough to realise that she had her reasons, reasons that couldn't be said out loud in the middle of the Great Hall. Fred had followed the same reasoning and laid his hand on his little brother's arm to calm him. "She's right. If attention is drawn to Malfoy," he whispered, "people will realise he was dancing with Moony. If someone outside of us learns of that, the Ministry could use it against Dumbledore. I'm not sure that professors dancing with their students hidden by masks is the sort of publicity he seeks." This was exaggerated, for dancing with a student had never got anyone sacked, but taking the louses that ran the Ministry into account, they could very well attempt to, or at least turn the story into juicy press. Anyway, it would do Moony no good at all.

But they had no more time to ponder on the problem as a cry troubled the room. They turned to the noise and saw a man they recognised as Professor Snape being unmasked by a panic-stricken dark-haired student. Dumbledore got to the man before them, soon joined by Malfoy and Moony. What had happened?

o-

Draco felt his other self go mad with worry and his own heart quickening in fear at the situation. Lupin stiffened in his arms, and they headed toward the shout. The professor didn't know what was happening and while the man went to help Dumbledore, Draco bent to retrieve Snape's glass from where it had fallen. He sniffed the remaining content and then, when the examination offered no answer, collected some liquid on his finger to lap at it. In an instant, just as quickly as the professor Snape had realised what he had drunk, Draco knew they had little time left.

He got up and ran after the group that had departed for the Infirmary. His other self was already working on a counter-poison. Lupin observed, powerless, as the Mediwitch cast spells on the unconscious body. Draco squeezed his hand and passed him, directing his steps to the bed. He drew Madame Pomfrey away, not noticing her starting to complain and the headmaster beckoning her to calm down. Draco bent over the still body, laid his right hand on his professor's forehead, extended the left one straight in the air, and closed his eyes.

A circle of light formed under the bed and the shadows of the room began moving around them. Draco muttered demon words and Snape's body jolted in a single spasm. The boy fainted on the man and all signs disappeared.

Silence filled the Infirmary, except for the leaves still being crushed, but was soon broken by Madame Pomfrey. "What just happened?" she asked, completely taken by the quick scene. She marched over to the duo. Severus was now breathing slowly, his face calmer, his body exhausted by the experience.

"Energetic link," explained a boy that was getting up from a corner of the room. He mixed his crushed leaves with water and drank it to the still unconscious professor. "He should be fine now. He needs rest to fight the poison."

"Poison?!" repeated Madame Pomfrey with surprise. "He was poisoned during the Ball? Albus, we can't let the students eat and drink anymore!"

"I know. Food and drinks were sent back to the kitchens," the headmaster replied calmly.

The still masked dark-haired student searched his robes to take a phial out and drank it. Under the horrified stares of the present ones, he grasped his stomach, moaning in pain and vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Draco opened his eyes, removed his mask, and rubbed his painful temples. He looked tired, his face aged by a single line of worry on his forehead. He gently took the professor's hands into his own and massaged them slowly, never letting Snape out of his sight. Who would have done that? He wondered while transmitting energy to the still sleeping man. The juice hadn't been poisoned when he had served it; someone must have put the poison in the drink during their conversation. But when? Draco could only think of one moment: when Snape had set down his glass to observe the Gryffindors. Someone had been spying on them from the beginning and had used the little time he was provided to pour the pure ajida into the professor's drink.

Ajida was considered one of the most effective poisons: inhaled or ingested, it immediately blocked the thoracic muscles, along with the heart. The only positive thing was that the one doing the poisoning had probably been a student and little informed in the way of poisons. He had thought he chose the best, but for people remotely good in Potions, to counter ajida was easy. The danger was now passed but that didn't mean that the guilty one would remain safe. Draco would find him and then…

o-

Remus hesitated in pouring a glass of whisky. It truly wasn't like him to rely on alcohol but the situation… Giving in to his aching for a good pick-me-up, he caught a glass and the bottle, eyed them with suspicion, then abandoned the glass and only took the bottle, directing his steps to the cold of the opened window.

He inhaled deeply the fresh air and drank a gulp of whisky straight from the bottle, appreciating the fire on his tongue and the freezing on his cheeks. The night was wonderfully calm and the sky clear, no light, other than his room's, was contesting the supremacy of the stars. Yet he couldn't admire it… As he scoped the school's grounds to the forest and took another sip, he remembered the reason for trying to get drunk and his eyes moistened.

Some hours ago, since he couldn't be of any help in the Infirmary, he had gone back to the Great Hall in order to help calm the students. That had been the official version. The unofficial one was his heart hadn't been able to bear the sight. He had observed the young man that had declared his love to him not a month ago sharing for another the same demeanour of indivisible attention and care.

Remus choked on his soon-to-fall tears. Wasn't it him that, just before the Ball, was thinking that Draco needed more experience? Funny, like Fate enjoyed playing with them. But he had been right in the end: whatever Draco felt for him, it wasn't true love. The boy visibly was attracted to his teachers, surely a result of his lack of friends during the past year. Teenage hormones had transformed it into physical desire. That was all…

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly missed a soft knocking on the door. Who could that be at this hour? Every student was sleeping now, Severus' health had stabilised, and the staff had gone to their own beds. Except him…

He put down the bottle on the chimney and went to open. It was Draco.

The boy's eyes were underlined by broad dark lines and shot with blood. His still silver hair was tangled from the root to the tip, and he was trembling, probably from cold. "They didn't let me stay in the Infirmary…" he murmured in a broken voice, as if pleading for an answer, for acceptance, for his arms.

"Draco…" he didn't know what to say. The look in his exhausted eyes was one of need. The child wasn't here to talk. He wanted to feel, to touch and to live. But it would be nothing more than an illusion. A mirage that would only be realised in the morning. Remus was too aware of that. "You should go to your dorms and sleep," he counselled gently.

Draco lowered his eyes to the ground. "Yes… I'm sorry I bothered you… Good night."

Remus watched the young form as he disappeared in the shadows of the corridor, his heart aching endlessly in his chest. Had he done the right thing? If he hadn't sent Draco away, he knew what would have occurred. Draco had wanted physical comfort, and Remus would have given it despite his suffering after it. But was leaving the child alone in his pain better? Draco was hurt and tired; what if he did something stupid? The boy was sensitive, much more than he let others see. He had needed help and… "What did I do…" he realised with horror. Grasping his cloak, he rushed out toward the dungeons, hoping the boy would have taken this way.

What had made him react in such a manner? How could he have been so selfish? But he knew the answer: he had been jealous, envious of Snape who had stolen part of Draco's affection. It had been so long since Remus was last shown unconditional kindness and love that he now clutched at it desperately. Of course Draco loved Severus: the man was his mentor, his model, his idol. That was why he had once again used his duplication potion in order to be with the both of them during the evening. Nothing more. Let Remus find Draco and the boy forgive him, then they'll forget everything about this rubbish idea of experience. To Hell with the rules, in eight months, Draco would be out of school, and to Hell with Lucius, they would find a way around him.

He was running down a corridor when he stopped dead in his tracks; a scream was echoing in the castle. Draco…

o-

Draco went away from the room, head bent, eyes stinking with tiredness and sadness. His heart was hurting so much… All had been going on well and then… Lupin had rejected him. He understood why: the man was only human and monogamous. How foolish Draco had been to think that he could be a demonist among wizards.

And Severus… Draco had claimed to want the two men as his mates and he couldn't even prevent one from being hurt. Snape had been poisoned just under his nose and Draco hadn't been able to save the man from the pain inflected on him. He was a loser. What had he thought to imagine that he could be as strong as Potter? Fathering Karnar, studying with Hath'Gack, being a friend to Tom, loving Remus and seducing Severus, learning demonology, becoming an animagus, researching potions, plotting against the Ministry and Voldemort, resisting the darkness' ascendancy. It had been too much.

Tears fell freely on his cheeks and his legs gave way, his body crumbling to the floor. He choked on sobs and curled up in a ball, his chest aching more than ever. He was a failure. He had abandoned his wand, for he would never be as good as Potter and his father. Lucius had gone on giving lessons to Potter; he had nothing left to teach his son. But even as a demonist, Draco wasn't strong enough. He couldn't protect those he cared for. Severus had been hurt; Remus had been hurt. So many people wanted to destroy Tom and kill his demons…

Draco vaguely heard a voice calling him and felt the warmth of someone crawling next to him.

Blaise had been dancing with his partner when he had heard the shout. Snape was dying. He didn't care much about the man. To Blaise, it was only a professor. But the professor had always been good to him, not nice, but fine. He listened to him when he needed to talk; he helped him with his homework if he didn't understand it. It was the general attitude of the Potions Master with his students and not a special treatment for him; still, it remained pleasurable to know that someone in this castle cared about Slytherins.

When he had met Draco, Blaise hadn't liked him. The boy was boastful, considered himself to be above the others… Blaise had done his best to avoid him during five years. Then, with Lucius Malfoy being sent to Azkaban and Crabbe and Goyle to Durmstrang, that had changed. Draco's transformation had been incredible. Blaise hadn't been able to believe it at first sight. During the last month, the young man had become a good friend, someone he could talk freely with and have no fear that his speech would led Zabini to be forced into joining a side for the war. Even if they couldn't talk, Tom seemed a great person too, after the first shock of his being the Slytherin heir. The conversations the spirit held with Draco were animated with laughs.

Draco liked Lupin, Blaise had noticed. It was ok with him: the werewolf posed no problem to him, as long as he didn't go attacking the students. Even then, Lupin could have killed a Gryffindor, and Blaise wouldn't have cared. But there was one thing that he didn't understand: why didn't Draco liberate his powers? They had fought a lot since their first duel and Blaise deeply enjoyed the sessions, even if he lost every time. It was extremely pleasant to confront a demonist, since they had different ways of controlling their magic. Still, in each encounter, he had felt something that stirred inside his friend's body, a feeling desiring to be unleashed. Why was Draco resisting?

When Draco hadn't reappeared after the end of the Ball and Blaise had begun to worry for his friend, he had gone to the Infirmary but Madame Pomfrey had informed him that the boy had been sent back to his dormitory. Zabini had frowned. It was bizarre for he hadn't met Draco on the way. Maybe he had gone to Lupin? Blaise was on his way to the professor's room, which he had learnt the location of the past year by pure coincidence, when he saw a form on the floor.

Recognising Draco, Blaise ran to the boy and knelt next to him. Draco was cold and weeping, obviously hurt.

Draco turned and noticed Blaise. "Go away," he stammered out, his body shaking with spasms and rage. His chest was getting heavier each second and he felt he wouldn't be able to resist much longer. His demonic side was taking the upper hand in his body. A mate of his had been hurt, and he wanted revenge for it; another had rejected him and would be forced into servitude.

"What?" cried out Blaise, "You think I'd leave you here? Are you mad? Come on." Saying that, he tried to get Draco up. But the Slytherin pushed him away.

"Run." Draco was bent in two, his face screaming his pain. He glared again at Blaise who remained unmoving. "Run, you imbecile. I'll kill you!" A convulsion seized him. Pain, hurt… It was too much. If he gave in, just half a second, just the time to relieve his aching… To accept a little part of the darkness inside of him. He stopped struggling.

Suddenly, the world seemed much better. The agony had ended and he could observe the boy next to him. This one had defied him many times, always coming back after his defeats. What was he thinking? That he could beat a demonist? Draco was so much stronger than them, why had he refused the evidence? But all of it was past now…

Blaise observed Draco and froze. The boy's eyes had gone dark and menacing. The demonist was staring at him with intent and his instinct told him to turn tail and run. But he couldn't present his back! Breath quickening out of fear, he took out his wand, just in case… This was different from their usual fights; the atmosphere was hot, heavy, and frightening. He just had time to detect a moving of the shadow at his side when his wand was snatched away and he was brutally pinned to the wall. His head was spinning from the shock and he vaguely registered Draco advancing toward him.

"Draco," he faltered out, "You're not yourself…"

But the demonist smirked. "On the contrary. I have never felt better." Every doubt had evaporated. He knew who he was and where he was going. He laid his hand on Blaise's chest. This one wouldn't bother him anymore.

Blaise felt a hand on him, energy infusing his body, warm then hot, and he screamed as the burning heat invaded him. He squirmed in an attempt to avoid the hand and escape the shadows but they were holding him well. Dolour was getting to his mind as the fire was eating him alive. In a half-conscious state, as he battled to go on breathing, he felt he was being released. He collapsed on the floor and peered at Draco. But the boy was occupied elsewhere…

o-

Moony ran to the noise, praying to arrive in time. His heart stopped at a scene he wasn't ready for. Draco swirled toward the interruption and smiled. "If it isn't the little rebel…" he murmured with a sneer. Remus took some steps back and took his wand out as Draco marched on him.

Lupin lightened the corridor with a spell, keeping the shadows from reaching him, and faced the Slytherin. Draco wasn't in his normal state; darkness was looming up in his soul, evil showing in his eyes. He advanced toward Remus, and the man went to stupefy him, when he noticed he couldn't talk. Draco gave a wicked little laugh as he crossed the last few steps that separated him from his professor.

Remus stiffened. This wasn't the Draco he was used to fighting. When training, the child had always taken care not to harm them because he had wanted to learn to master his skills; this opponent yearned to destroy. The wolf in him scented the danger and the power radiating from the shadows around him as they infested his small area of light. In a last flash of hope, he caught Draco's wrist and twisted it, forcing the child to turn so that he could clench both of his arms behind his back. Too late. His own shadow had redressed and grasped him backwards, making him fall on the floor.

Draco sat on him before he could react and crushed their lips together. Despite the situation, Remus felt his body answering to the need. It was so good, the feeling of this young flesh on his. How could he have sent Draco away? Contradictory wishes muddled up his brain. Hands tore at his shirt, ripping it open. "No…" he whimpered without conviction. This was wrong. It wasn't Draco. The boy would never force him.

The weight on him suddenly vanished as Draco was being hurled away by a rush of wind. Dumbledore helped Remus and Blaise get up as Draco recuperated from his fall.

"Would you mind fighting someone of your strength?" defied the headmaster.

Draco chuckled. "Are you certain you can afford it? You're old, your heart is weak, and you will break."

"You of all people should remember that underestimating is a weakness," insisted Dumbledore, "If you believe yourself so strong, let's go out."

Remus stared at the two men as they made their way to the pitch. Had Dumbledore gone mad!? 'No! Stop! Albus! It isn't Draco! You can't fight! Albus!' his mind cried out since he hadn't regained his voice.

'I know,' a voice in his mind replied, 'but he needs to consume his anger or we won't be able to reason with him. The curse on you will wear out soon, talk to him then, never stop, you must reach him.'

Outside, the weather had gone as dark as the events. The sky had clouded over and rain was falling in quick and heavy drops, soaking the ground. Icy wind was roaming the pitch and Remus fathomed this was Dumbledore's doing. The fighters faced one another, their clothes already drenched. From where he was, Remus could see Draco shivering with the cold. Demonists hated the rain.

He attacked. Shadows grouped from the centre of the pitch and launched on Dumbledore. But the wind was making them weaker, and he defected them with a sudden gust. Draco clenched his teeth. The old man was good. And what with the rain, fire would be of no use here.

Remus suddenly felt the curse leaving him as his throat was loosened. "Draco!" he yelled instantly, "It isn't you. Stop now. You can control your..." He couldn't finish his sentence. The boy had turned back to him in a dash and placed the same malediction again.

"Draco," called Dumbledore, seeing the boy wouldn't let Remus talk, "We can stop. You are my friend and I don't want to fight you. I understand what you went through but it doesn't have to go on. You can…"

"Shut up old man!" shouted the boy, urging the shadows into attacking.

Albus was assaulted from all sides; he concentrated his mind into confusing the black masses. Too late did he see the boy murmuring under his breath. His chest jumped as the link was established and his energy defused in the air. A shadow threw itself at him and he morphed his wand in a buckler to drive it back. Between two wards, he turned to Draco and twisted a rush of wind above him, crushing him on the muddy ground, breaking the link in the process.

"Draco, come to your mind. This isn't you. You must stop, I don't want to fight you."

Draco redressed, his robes and pants covered in dirt and mud, his hands trembling with cold. "Too bad for you… Irch Karnar."

And it occurred to Dumbledore that Draco wasn't the only one to have underestimated. In front of him, an enormous mass of shadow was unleashing sparks of thunder. Cold was participating in the creation of the lightning, rain was dispersing and developing its strength. Was that Karnar, the sweet little demon? The shadow moved toward him in a dash and hit him hard, the force of the thundering blow sending him metres away. Karnar marched on him and, half blinded by the water and the stars in his head, Albus recognised the child under the mass of power. His eyes were full of fury and hatred. His master was getting attacked. His master had been hurt!

A guttural scream of rage escaped his throat as he released the concentrated thunder from his hands on Dumbledore. The man defused part of it and took the rest, resisting the urge to scream in pain. He had been foolhardy on this one: Draco had grown stronger with his training; it was logical that his demons would evolve in synchronisation. Albus didn't want to hurt Draco, he had thought he could let the boy vent his anger upon him, but the strength of the blows contradicted his will. He couldn't afford getting seriously hurt.

Before Karnar could attack again, Dumbledore morphed back his wand and hexed Draco with a Stupefy. But his spell met only void as the boy had disappeared for a fraction of a second. This was the work of the second demon, Hath'Gack, the one that had never been seen. Draco smirked. "You're finished, old man."

Albus didn't reply and got up, Karnar still observing his moves, waiting for an order from his master. "Draco, I'll tell you one last time, stop this madness. It isn't you fighting. I don't want to hurt you, all of you," he said, motioning to Karnar and the place he felt the other demon's energy residing in.

Draco scowled. "You truly underestimate me, old man, if you think I used all of my tricks. You wanted to duel, then fight; don't cower now."

Resigning, Dumbledore acquiesced and took a duelling pose. He had to stop Draco. He just had to. He was partly at fault in this matter. If he hadn't sent Draco away from the Infirmary, this wouldn't have happened. And if he let Draco go away in this state of mind, who knew what he'd do? He readied himself, aware of the means that the boy would use to destroy his enemy.

Remus was assisting these two people that he loved dearly. Draco was hurt; Dumbledore was hurt. This couldn't go on. Draco had said he wasn't able to clear off maledictions; what would result in his using them? Albus could die from them. Remus wouldn't remain outside the fight.

The curse on him had once again worn off. He took some steps toward the duelling scene, gulped back his fear, and raised his voice above the wind's cries. "Draco! I beg you…" This got the boy to swirl at him. "It is me that angered you, only me. Albus did nothing. I am solely responsible. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me, I deserve it. I wasn't there when you needed me…" His unshed tears of the evening were finally falling freely as he bent his head.

Draco's eyes flashed with wonder, and he advanced toward the interruption. The man was broken, defeated. Draco lifted his chin in a soft gesture and looked at him in the eye. There was no darkness in them, only devotion and love, and the pain shook his heart. Remorse stroked him at having brought dolour upon this innocent man, and all anger left him. He let go of the chin and caressed an offered cheek. What had he done? How could he let himself harm the one he loved?

"I had sworn never to harm you…" he murmured in a pained voice. 'And I failed…' he thought with horror.

"And you didn't," Remus whispered back, "I'm fine. Let's all go back to the castle."

During their conversation, Dumbledore had joined them, satisfied at Remus' intrusion in the fight. His back slightly hurt at his fall and his head at the thunder but it wasn't something that Poppy wouldn't be able to cure in no time. Just the romantic scene he was bearing witness to was alleviating his pain. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed it, emphasising the professor's words. But, to their surprise, Draco shook his head.

Rain had stopped and clouds had dispersed, wind was singing softly the praise of the fighters. In reaction to his master's calm, Karnar was once again a sweet little boy, and Dumbledore thought that he much preferred him this way. The demon slipped his hand in Draco's and they withdrew from the two men.

"It isn't finished," Draco finally spoke, "It is still here, in me. I would hurt you again."

Remus froze. "Don't go," he pleaded. He needed Draco at his side, the boy that gave him hope, that made him smile; he wanted his heart to stop aching.

"I have to." The demonist was all too aware of the darkness inside of him, of the anger and hatred that longed to go out. "But I will be back. In one week, at the most, I will be here." Because in exactly seven days, there was an event that he wouldn't miss for the world. It had taken him one month to prepare, and it was now the time to keep his promise. Snape was sound in the Infirmary, Blaise had probably joined him and was not too badly injured, Dumbledore seemed fine, Tom was achieving the task he had been given; he could go. Not giving a damn about the headmaster's presence, he kissed his lover a last time and moved away to the forest.

Despaired, his breath coming out in chokes, Remus observed Draco disappearing in the shadows of the trees. An arm encircled his shoulders and he leaned against the understanding old man. "He will be back," Dumbledore repeated Draco's declaration. "He's always true to his word." Dumbledore's heart clutched tight at the knowledge that he had somehow caused this situation. He had doubted their love for each other, thought that Remus' was the result of his long search for affection and Draco's was the consequence of his lack of friends. He had been deeply wrong and regretted his conversations with the werewolf.

And in his mind, he was already making a list of the people that could help him verify that Draco was fine during his absence. Hippogriffs could make sure that the boy was safe but Draco had never liked them enough to allow them proximity. Most of the others would refuse when learning the boy was a demonist. It seemed like Albus would have to trust Draco with his own well-being… Hopefully, the child loved Remus too much to come back scathed or not come back at all...

o-

**Thursday, November the 5****th**

Harry sighed at his homework, earning a glance from Hermione. She rested her quill in her inkpot, rolled her parchment, and gave him her full attention.

"What is the matter?" she inquired in a motherly voice.

"Moony."

Ah… The DADA teacher was the source of every Gryffindor conversation since five days ago. That Sunday morning, Snape had awoken and was said to immediately ask for Malfoy. What he was told, he didn't like… It was his yelling at Remus that had attracted their group to the Infirmary. As soon as they had entered the place, Madame Pomfrey had shunned them, along with every student. They only had had the time to see that the poor Gryffindor wasn't responding to the screaming, prostrated, accepting the reproaches. What about? They hadn't known.

It had taken a roar of Dumbledore for Snape to shut up and even then, his eyes had went on talking for him. As nothing more had seemed to take place inside, students had scattered but for their tight group. They had wanted to know how Snape could dare insult one of them! Later, Dumbledore had related the events of the night, but only, he said, so that they wouldn't bother Moony for answers. The man needn't a bunch of students to harass him. He had also omitted some facts, such as Remus' state of clothing when he had arrived, or the strength that Draco had put in use during the fight.

After hearing the story, Harry had been angry with Malfoy and thankful with Hermione for stopping them in time. Then he had frowned. "Why in one week?" he had asked.

All had stared at him with curiosity as he had gone on. "Why did Malfoy say that he would come back in one week? Why one week?" It could have been only a coincidence, but he felt curious that the blonde had granted himself so little time to calm down.

The Weasley brothers had been of surprising help to resolve his question. In Harry's third year, they had made a habit of breaking into Snape's lab to steal ingredients for their tests. It wasn't rare that they came upon boiling concoctions. They generally vaguely studied what the Potions Master was working on, in case it could get dangerous for the students. One of these times, amazed, they had discovered a birth chart on their new DADA professor: Remus Lupin. After that, they had long believed that the harsh attitude of Snape was in fact due to a denied attraction toward his colleague. But what connected it with their current matter? Hermione had inquired as Dumbledore's eyes were gleaming. They had explained: in one week, it was Moony's birthday. They had never given it much thought, since at that moment Lupin had been no more than a teacher. It had taken such an event for them to remember it.

Harry had felt like something was amiss in their voices, as if they were omitting a fact but when, thrilled, Ginny had proposed that they organise a big feast, he had forgotten about it. Chuckling, Dumbledore had given his assent, as long as they kept it low. He didn't want more of the Ministry in his affairs.

"What about him?" asked Ron. The three of them were working in the Common Room, forced by Hermione. On a near table was a group of Ginny's friends who, contrary to them, didn't need to be pushed to study.

"Why do you think Malfoy wants to be here for his birthday?" Harry inquired back.

"To give him a present looks like a good point to me," proposed Hermione, rolling her eyes. Truly, boys could be dense sometimes.

"You really can envision Malfoy of all people offering a gift to Moony? He doesn't seem the type to." Ron gave a shrug of suspicion at the idea.

"Why not?" Hermione bit back. "He already did much for professor Lupin, what with the Wolfsbane development and all. Maybe this is his present, by the way. He could have found the way to counter the morphing."

Harry sighed again. He didn't know what to think of Malfoy; the Slytherin was a mystery. He could be horrible and irascible and insufferable then he suddenly did something great. On the contrary, he could keep quiet for months then reveal that he had been plotting all along. He helped the Order but he protected Riddle, he liked Moony but he hurt him. Although, after giving it a little thinking, Harry had to admit that the blonde had had no control over his actions.

The next day brought them a surprise they weren't waiting for…

o-

**Friday, November the 6****th**

Reunion of the Order.

The Ministry was in uproar; death-eaters had roamed Azkaban and liberated the prisoners. On Thursday evening, the aurors had taken their nightly watch, when they had heard noises of bombs around the prison. They had rushed up toward them and met death-eaters in direct confrontation. They had been quickly outnumbered and, before they could call for reinforcements, the death-eaters had departed and the cells were empty.

"There is a fact that I can't quite grasp," muttered Mad-Eye. "Why no auror was killed? That's not like death-eaters to let someone live when they can kill them."

Whispers ran in the room. Indeed, that was singular. Maybe they hadn't the time?

"Anyway, that isn't our current problem," recalled Kingsley, "If You-Know-Who took the time to liberate his followers, it is positive he's planning an attack."

Dumbledore wasn't talking, and he was examining the paper one more time. What Moody remarked was true, but that wasn't the only strangeness: why bombs? Experts had studied them and deducted that they had been simple smoke grenades. What had been their point in the attack? Besides, how was it that the detection spells around Azkaban hadn't activated? Albus swirled his head toward the only calm man of the room, Lucius, and he smiled. Of course… Why was the man so calm when, the day before, he had been so anxious for his son?

"Maybe you know something?" Dumbledore inquired at his attention while the others were still discussing their strategies to turn down an unexpected attack of death-eaters.

"I do, and no need to go into a panic," he motioned with commiseration the excited ones of the room.

Always on the lookout for a fight against Malfoy, Figg tilted. "You have reasons to say that, maybe…" she asked with reproach and disgust.

"Only one," sneered the high lord, "At the moment we're talking, I have thirteen unconscious death-eaters in my cave."

Dumbledore smiled at hearing the answer he had been waiting for. In a corner of his eye, he caught a brief glimpse of Remus making the connection. The poor man was feeling guilty for Draco's departure, and Severus' then Lucius' outbursts hadn't diminished his depreciating. Thankfully, Narcissa had arrived to calm the man down. Whenever it concerned Lucius, this woman was a benediction. And the secret gaze that she had shared with Dumbledore while motioning Remus told him that she had something going on that her husband wasn't aware of. There were many plots in the Malfoy Manor recently…

"How is Draco?" he inquired for Remus' sake, since the professor would never dare ask in fear of the answer he would get.

Lucius didn't reply immediately, as if pondering something he had lived. "I don't know; he didn't stay long." He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, only recalling the scene of the past day and making his own conclusions. "He seemed happier though. More calm, too, almost serene." He turned to Dumbledore. "There was someone with him, a man, but I only saw him from far away."

"A man?" Albus repeated, frowning. Was it a new demon? Or maybe Hath'Gack's physical form? Or someone else? He would have to ask Draco about it when the boy came back. This could wait. Glancing again at Remus, he felt the man's mind being much at ease.

Moony stared in space for the rest of the reunion. He didn't care what was going on, he wanted to see Draco, to know what had occurred during this week of absence, to understand why the boy had suddenly decided to go back to Azkaban. He yearned for his presence at his side, for the warmth of his hands and the love in his eyes. Only one more day and Draco would be back; he had promised it!

He was about to go out when a hand gasped his shoulder and released it immediately after, as though disgusted by the contact. He turned back to discover Lucius, lips pursed. The high lord was very reluctantly handing him over a paper. Remus took it with hesitation, wondering why Lucius Malfoy would give him a piece of paper that, strangely, was completely white. He fingered it to find an inscription but no, the paper was blank. He went to ask but when he held up his head, the high lord had already departed.

Inquisitive, Harry approached him. "It's a envelope," he said.

Remus frowned in incomprehension. "A what?"

The boy smiled at his professor's uncertainty. Wizards really should spend more time in the muggle world. But what interested him was: what was Lucius Malfoy doing with that? And who could give an envelope to Remus? Did he know some muggles? But then why pass by Malfoy? The man certainly wasn't the type to have such items in his house. "An envelope," he repeated, "Muggles use them to transport mail. You have to open it there." He took the article from Remus' hands, who didn't resist and looked stunned when Harry splintered a flap that had been concealed on the paper, revealed a slit inside it and took out another piece of paper.

With emotion, he accepted the offered note and unfolded it. 'Ah…This time, I recognise the writing.' His face cracked into a smile when he read the elegant script. "I always keep my promises. Tomorrow night, wait for me," it said. A light laugh shook his body at the theatrical presentation and he folded the paper back before someone could read it. Then he remembered. "But why muggle paper?" he asked Dumbledore who had been observing them from the beginning.

The old man needn't read the message; he saw it well enough in Remus' mind, and the joy that pierced the professor's eyes was enough to disclose the expeditor. And it made him smile too, for, when he had speculated on what new eccentricity the young Malfoy would invent, he certainly hadn't conjectured this one.

"Who knows the way his brain works?" he inquired back with a gleam in the eye. Dumbledore had problems containing his curiosity of the whole matter. Was it connected to this other man that Lucius had talked about? Would Draco have met muggles? It seemed peculiar, though, that the boy would willingly go near them without reason. What had happened in the forest?

o-

**Saturday, November the 7****th**

Remus soon forgot of such secondary problems and his heart was swollen with happiness each time he recalled the content of Draco's missive. He didn't see the time pass before it was already Saturday evening. Excited as he hadn't been in twenty years, he searched for something to occupy his agitated mind. He had tried reading but had found his legs moving on their own and pacing his room. The wait was turning his head. He couldn't sleep; he hadn't been able to swallow any food, his mouth was curving every five seconds in a thrilled grin.

He settled for his usual resting place on the window, hoping he would see Draco arrive. As he was ordering his lungs to breathe and exhale, for they had tendency to stop, he heard a knock at the door. Rushing on his feet, he straightened his robes and, calming his racing heart, opened the door wide.

His joy dissolved when he saw Hermione standing in the corridor. The girl smiled in apology. "I'm sorry to disappoint you so, professor, but I fear my hair is too bushy to please you…"

Despite his sadness that it wasn't Draco, Remus grinned slightly at the attempt of a joke and invited the girl to enter, which she did. "Professor, I was wondering if you would accompany me to the Gryffindor tower?"

His eyebrows rose high at the question. "There is a problem?" he asked. It was still early in the night, not even eight o'clock, and the curfew wasn't before two more hours. Why would she request that of him?

"Oh no, not at all," she hastily calmed his apprehension, "But the Gryffindors would enjoy seeing you. You've been in the moon these last weeks and we saw little of you. You're not only a professor to us, you're a friend and we miss your company. Moreover, you're always kind to us and I think it's well time we turn the tables."

Remus fought not to gape at the declaration, not daring to tell that he preferred to wait for Draco than sharing their company. He liked them, but why today? "I…" he stammered, "I'd really like to see the lot of you but…" but he didn't want to quit his room in case Draco arrive. What would the boy think if he wasn't there?

Hermione didn't stop grinning. "I thought of everything," she guaranteed and took out of her pocket a post-it on which one could read 'I'm at the Gryffindor tower. Remus.'

The man smiled at the attention. "But how did you know…"

"Professor," Hermione sighed and giggled, "You're worse than Ron when he was trying to ask me out. We women are much more sensible for this sort of thing that you men are. I'm astonished that Harry didn't understand when he saw the two of you dancing together… Really… A whole bunch of brainless adorable blokes, all of them…"

Silence fell in the room as Remus hesitated on the decision to take. "He won't resent you for being happy," she insisted, a gentle gaze in her eyes. He couldn't resist.

He magically glued the post-it to the outside of his door and they headed for the Gryffindor Tower. They entered; he saw the whole house banded in the common room and an enormous cake sitting imposingly on a table. He flinched. Had he forgotten something? But when Hermione sent him a glance full of sense, he recalled the date and his cheeks reddened.

His mouth opened to say something but no sound came out. The children smiled and a lousy 'Happy Birthday, professor' reverberated in the whole tower. Had someone ever been stupid enough to forget his own birthday? But it had been so rarely wished these last years, and the week had been so tense that he had had no time to remember it. His eyes moistening, he noticed the Weasley twins at the back of the room. Weren't they supposed to have gone last week? But who cared?

The party was livened up by the twins' tricks. By two hours, half the room had morphed blue. Moony had been exceptionally spared by the epidemic and he suspected that Hermione was a part of this mystery. He had enjoyed himself during this time, mostly from his conversations with his closer friends. He had missed talking with Harry. The boy showed him how united their house was. And when the grandfather clock rang ten o'clock, the portrait opened.

There was a sudden hush in the common room and all turned to watch the newcomer. Draco was standing outside, in the corridor, looking only at Remus with a little amused smirk marking his lips. At that moment, Remus thought that the world could truly be perfect.

"Won't you enter?" proposed the twins with a cunning smile.

Draco frowned with amusement. "No way will I walk in this ambush. Besides, I'm only here to collect the hero of the day."

"And you think we'll let Moony go alone with you?" defied Harry, more by curiosity at the blonde's surprise than by true fear for his friend.

"Ha… I had hoped, but professor Snape warned me it wouldn't be so easy." He shrugged. "So I'm willing to take two of you with me. I won't be able to bear more than two Gryffindors… But since I'm cautious, I'll chose myself."

He sniggered cynically at Potter's wanting expression. "The Mudblood and the Weaselette," he finally announced.

Remus coughed at the nicknames, scowling with admonition. Draco shrugged at the censure in the glare. "Sorry," he whined. "It went out like that."

The twins tried to laugh at Draco, but their voices disappeared in the middle of it and the Slytherin stuck out his tongue at them.

"Well, ferret," retorted Hermione, gladly astonished at the blonde' behaviour. Draco had insulted her but had looked more repentant that she had ever imagined him to be when Remus had glowered at him. "Where have you disappeared during this week?" she inquired as she and Ginny were retrieving their cloaks on a coat-peg.

Draco's pupils glistened at the memory. "I met family," he admitted with a boyish grin. "You're ready? Then let's go!" He made a step toward Remus, willing to enter and take his hand, but the devilish manners of the Gryffindors halted him on his way. Hermione was still watching him with amusement, and Remus didn't move, amused at the scene. Would Draco dare penetrate a Gryffindor territory for him?

The Slytherin flinched, taking in he would have to make the first move. Bad, bad werewolf to impose such task on him… He would be punished later… No kiss for the evening… Or maybe just a little… Then he smirked. Did they truly imagine that he would lay a foot in a Gryffindork tower? He smirked at Remus and opened his arms wide.

Little Gryffindors shrieked in fear as a shadow raised and pushed the professor in the awaiting arms. "Gotcha." He grinned proudly at his achievement and pulled the stunned-at-his-action professor in the corridor, Hermione and Ginny following near. From behind, Draco could hear girls giggling. "They're so sweet!" tittered Patil.

"Sweet?!" echoed Weasley, disgusted at the idea of a sweet Slytherin.

Harry was silent. He was gazing at his three friends and ex-nemesis disappearing in the corridor and querying whether he had really missed something so big. Was that the true reason why Moony was distancing from them? He felt slightly jealous at the closeness Draco had with the professor. Remus was the last family of a sort he had, after Sirius's death and he didn't want to lose it.

Draco was still leading the Gryffindors in corridors and Remus identified the way to Dumbledore's office. When they arrived at the Gargoyle, he had confirmation of their destination. Their curiosity raising to enormous proportions, they went up the stairs and found the headmaster grinning like a child and Snape inquiring as to why he was here.

Draco clutched Remus' hand tightly and directed him to an appearing door in the wall that the professor recognised as the cupboard Snape and he had hidden in when the aurors had come for him. They stood in front of it and Lupin glanced at Severus, seeing memories gushing forth in the man's eyes.

"First," declared Draco to his Potions teacher in a kind tone, "I'd like to say that when professor Lupin reacted the way he did, he unknowingly saved you from harm and problems. Had I not lost my mind at that moment, I inevitably would have later and then caused much more damage. Don't you owe him an apology?"

Severus first looked outraged at the supposition but his eyes unwillingly turned at the cupboard's door and he was reminded of the gentleness that Lupin had showed to him inside. Never had the werewolf made mention of his colleague's weakness, even when being insulted. He had kept quiet about it. Besides, Draco was asking…

Snape peered at Remus' mind and saw the man's volition to spare him the chore and take the responsibility of his actions. 'He's willing to let go of such an occasion? After everything I said to him?' Severus was overwhelmed by the extent of the werewolf's kindness. 'That's impossible,' he thought, 'He cheated to be in Gryffindor!' He sighed profoundly and before Remus could save him from humiliation, he presented his excuses for his behaviour.

At least that had the effect to almost engender the little Gryffindors' fainting from the shock, a praising sight of Dumbledore, and a flashy grin of Draco.

"And now…" began the devilish boy, squeezing Remus' hand and turning his attention to the door, "I made you a promise a month ago; it is time I keep it…"

He raised the man's hand and laid it on the doorknob. His heart quickening at the wonder of what he would discover inside, Remus opened the door. He met with the inquisitive eyes of a dog and stopped breathing, amazed.

In front of him, the dog growled at Draco but his yell got caught in his throat when he noticed Moony and Dumbledore. The werewolf sobbed when he recognised the now morphing pet and Sirius advanced toward them, understanding nothing. Vaguely, he registered Ginny fainting completely and Hermione enervating her with difficulties of concentration.

The two friends remained standing, looking at each other, none being able to accept the reality. Draco caressed Remus' back and the werewolf looked at him, tears falling. "I told you I would make you smile," the boy whispered with uncertainty, "Have I failed again?"

Lupin sniffed and happiness erupted on his face as he realised that it wasn't a mirage. He clenched at Draco desperately, never wanting to let go. Padfoot; he had brought back Padfoot.

"I'd like to understand…" broke a little voice in the back. Sirius was completely lost. He spent a year and a half in a place much too like Azkaban for his tastes and where he'd almost gone mad, then he was taken out by Malfoy and his death-eater friends, locked away, patched up in record time, and suddenly, he was in Hogwarts…

Dumbledore made chairs appear for all of them and signalled them to sit. Draco refused to be far away from Remus and sat on his lap, defying everyone in the room to make a remark. Suddenly, they heard an intense knocking on the Gargoyle statue and Dumbledore chuckled.

The typical noise of the stone moving, then rushing steps on the stairs and Potter then Weasley loomed up, panting and sweating. The Gryffindor golden boy looked like he had seen a ghost, and Black was up in a start to meet him.

"Black!" Draco's voice called back, "Sit down!" he ordered.

To everyone's surprise, the man did exactly what he was told, even if his eyes showed that he really didn't want to. Harry was flabbergasted "What did you do?" he cried out.

Draco smirked. "I gave him an order. What are you doing here, Potter?"

Dumbledore beckoned their attention. He had sensed Harry and his friend running all the way from the Gryffindor tower, probably just after casting a discreet look at the map to discover where their friends and sister had gone with the Slytherin. In order not to let the situation git out of hand considering the tensed emotion that all were subjected to, he quickly related the bond between Harry and his godfather. After hearing it, Draco seemed to forget immediately, not interested at all in their family history, but he accepted the Gryffindors' presence without too many groans. Severus, on the contrary, was wondering what he was still doing here…

Draco grinned again at Remus. "Are you happy?" he inquired, twisting himself on the man's lap so that they faced one another. The look on his werewolf's face was enough. "Do you have to ask?" Remus only replied, feeling that he couldn't speak more; the passion was eating him. To have the boy present him with such a gift, his weight pressing him down, his heat warming, and his smell arousing him. He wanted the child in his bed, naked under him, squirming and moaning with pleasure. His pupils dilated with desire and his fingers' grasped Draco's robes and tightened to prevent himself from reaching other places.

Draco giggled, sensing the effect he had on the man and, unseen, intensified his contact with Lupin, satisfied when the werewolf had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning. "I have another present for you. It's from Mum."

That gained him everyone's attention. "She offers you Black's debt… and also says to him that he's lucky she has a modicum of sense of the family, in opposition to him…"

He waited till questions fused around him about this supposed debt to go on. Severus was beginning to enjoy himself, reassured that Draco was still his favourite and best Slytherin, always ready to strike at Gryffindors. Smirking, Draco took out a fork and fingered it. "You see, I wondered for years what was the use in these stupid transfiguration lessons we were having. Mum showed me the use it could have…"

He threw the item at Dumbledore, who caught it and stared wide at it. "Is it what I think?" the old man asked, emotion in the voice.

Rather than answering, Draco motioned him to go on. "One should know better than to roam the Manor for missing death-eaters," the Slytherin sneered, "Particularly when my mother is home."

Dumbledore took out his wand and, with non-dissimulated pleasure, ended all spells around them. The fork grew, swelled, rounded, revealed legs and whiskers… A fly would have been heard the silence was so deep in the office. On the desk, a yellowish rat was trembling. Sirius emitted a dark laugh. "What a pleasure…" he saluted, looking intently at the animal.

Draco nipped his enjoyment in the bud. "Since I'm in a hurry, I'll tell the last thing quickly. Professor," he addressed Snape, "As you excused for your errors, it would be fairer that the wrongs which were done to you are also repaired. That's why I give Black to you."

"What?!" Sirius got up instantly. "No way! You can't do that!"

"Malfoy!" yelled Harry and his friends, "You can't give a person!"

Draco eyed Black seriously. "I very well can. I saved you from the Shadow World, and you are mine to obey. I have no need of you so, if you wish to be a free man again, you will serve professor Snape."

Severus was still gaping at the revelation. "Is it a bad joke?" he inquired in a hesitant tone. Could Draco really do that? Order someone around then give him or her to someone else?

"Not at all." Draco grinned at him. "After all, without you, I would never have gone for him. That's why from now on till one of us decides he has paid enough, he will be yours to command." He got up from Remus' lap and pulled the man to him. "But I fear you won't be able to enjoy it immediately…"

o-

Draco breathed deep. In Salazar's lab, the two professors were sitting and eyeing him with much intent and questions. He had brought them here so that no one would be able to spy on them. It was difficult enough to say, no need for an exterior person to get wind of their discussion.

He went to a shelf, uncorked a small phial and gulped it down then turned to meet the inquisitive eyes.

'I'll have to say it at one moment or another… Better tell it now and get over with it…'

"Well… Surely the two of you noticed that I had duplicated during the Ball?"

They nodded, remembering the awful events that had followed.

"I had a reason for that. I wanted to enjoy both of your companies, without you being bothered by it. I regret it now. If I hadn't, the evening would probably have been more enjoyable… But it was the only solution that I had; I couldn't choose…" He swallowed, nervous as only teenager could be.

"I couldn't choose because I fell in love… With both of you."

End of Chapter 7.


	8. Chapter 8 : The calling of a world

Author's note: I wondered if some of you had noticed

**Author's note: **I wondered if some of you had noticed. There's an error in the fic. The seventh years have potions three times in a week. The poor ones…

**Question:** Would some of you know where I can find HP challenges? Thank you a lot.

**Historical remark: **I just wanted to clear something, in case someone hadn't understood. Remus and Romulus were twin brothers that had been raised by a she-wolf when they were babies. After that, they decided to found a city. Remus wanted it to be inside the lands and Romulus wanted it to be next to the river. Finally, they had a row and each went to built his own city (with help of friends of course). When Remus realised that his city would lack water and the proximity of a commercial network, he got angry and went to bother his brother. Romulus warned Remus that, should he cross the raising wall of his city, he would be killed. Remus didn't take care of the warning and jumped above the stones. Romulus killed him.

On HP lexicon, they say Romulus and Remus founded Rome. No, only Romulus did. That story is also the reason for Draco's remark at the beginning of the first chapter: '_Oh… I s'pose it's better for you. He won't kill you this way.' _at Remus when the man tells him he is an only child.

**Author's Note 2:** Well, I hope you'll like this chapter cause it gave me Hell to write. All my thanks to Mariann who gratefully accepted to correct it cut in three parts because I was too slow to write and you wouldn't have got it in time. Anyway, if the chapter doesn't get five reviews, Draco said he would boycott the fic and you'd never see what future has in hold for him. Be warned (and big evil eye is looking at you. He will come and haunt your sleep if you don't press the OK button for the reviews).

**.**

**The Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 8: The calling of a world.**

**Sunday, November the 22****nd**

Their life had settled down in a daily routine. After Draco's declaration, they had been rather on edge. None of them had been willing to share the boy, but since none of them either wanted to let go of him, they had finally opted for a truce, each one silently hoping the other would give up first.

Said truce had rapidly turned into collaboration when Draco had began spending the evenings alternatively with one then the other. They missed him too much the days he wasn't there. After Snape's anger fits and Lupin's depression, Draco had declared that it couldn't go on. From that day on, they had met in Salazar's lab, which had been arranged in order to be comfortable for three men.

Little was to say that the password wasn't secret anymore… After a few visits, there had been so many Slytherins eagerly waiting in the common room to observe them that they had been forced to perform it in front of them. The trio didn't mind: Snape had placed dark curses on the door… When doing so, he had made sure to be well seen by his students, so that they would know what they risked if they attempted to enter. After two weeks, none had dared try yet. Inwardly, he hoped that a Gryffindor would test his luck.

When Draco had presented Snape with his gift, the Potions Master had needed days to believe it was really happening to him. That was by far the greatest present he had ever been given. 'There has to be a trick,' he had thought. Indeed, there had been. Black's status was one of a demon: his master could order him around but also had to make sure of his welfare. No physical harm, no mental torture and, the worst for Severus, no public humiliation. Since that had been the global filling of his plans for the Gryffindor, his fun had steadily decreased since then…

Just as everyday, he planned to grasp some students' essays and a good potions book then join Draco and Lupin in Slytherin's lab. Minerva had already hindered him in his progress for she had wanted to talk about what would happen to Draco's points at the end of the autumn term. In fact, the boy had received many due to his good work of the last month, his taking the death-eaters from Azkaban and the common creation with Severus of a potion preventing any application of the Dark Mark. Severus had had to insist that such feats were fairly rewarded: Potter had received recompense for setting against the dark lord in his first year; it was only normal that Draco's actions were shown the same respect.

"What are you still doing here?" grumbled Severus while storming in his classroom and rummaging in his desk for the seventh year Slytherin/Gryffindor work. He needn't speculate on the grade he would mark Draco's paper with. The boy would fill with wonder and pride any Potions teacher.

A dark-haired man was bent over a worktable, sponging the soap from it. At the voice, he swiftly roused from his chore, determined not to show that his back hurt like Hell, and glared at the Potions Master. "**You** ordered me to wash your classroom; are your brains failing you at length?" he spat with venom at the person he hated most in this school.

Snape screwed his eyes that sent daggers at the deliberately impudent servant. "It is your capacity at executing competently a simple task that is severely lacking, Black. A first year would do better. These tables have to be so clean you could eat on them. Did it get to your daft brain?"

"I could wash them for a century and it still wouldn't be enough for your tastes! What's your problem, Snape?" Black inquired with a sneer, "Can't bear that I'm back?! That your little arse-licker of a Malfoy preferred pleasing Remus rather than granting your revenge to you?! You can do **nothing** to me. "

Snape's hands had stopped in mid-motion at the speech. His teeth were clenching so hard Sirius could hear them grinding from metres away. Who did the greasy git think he was to order him around in such a way for nearly three weeks?! Only because the little remorseful death-eater had decided to accomplish the good action of his life by taking him out the Shadow World didn't mean that he would accept this ridiculous comedy of being a servant any longer. He wanted to see Harry and for more time than the little hour he was offered with his godson everyday!

Severus was red with anger. The worst of Black's statement was the truth. While being the man's master, he had no power over him despite giving pathetic orders. Oh, how much he regretted ever sending this piece of photo to Draco…

Sirius smirked. Without Malfoy, Snape was nothing. At first, when the Gryffindor had been rescued from the Shadow World, he had bent to the Slytherin boy in fear that the brat would decide to send him back and because Sirius had still been under the shock of his year spent in misery; but now, the story was all different. Malfoy had come for him to cheer Remus up, and, strangely, the child liked his professor too much to strike a blow at the man by taking away his last friend. He risked nothing.

With a wantonly contemptuous and scornful smile, Black got out of the classroom.

Snape remained alone near his desk, too angry to move.

A poisoned chalice: that was what Black had been. How could Draco have tricked him so? The boy knew his professor would have no power over the Gryffindor… Severus' tense chest ached with betrayal. He remembered the newspaper of the last two weeks and his anger increased. There wasn't one in which Black wasn't mentioned: the war hero, James Potter's best friend, Harry Potter's godfather, the wizard that had spent twelve years in Azkaban for attempting to avenge his friend and one and a half year in the Shadow World for protecting his godson.

Severus' eyes moistened with pearls of rage. What had he left now? He had betrayed the dark lord long ago, abandoning his title of death-eater. He had been discovered as a spy and could bring no more information to the Order. Lucius could foresee Voldemort's plans much better than he did. He was a Potions professor, with a student almost as intelligent as he was. What was he? Where lay his point now?

Caught in his thoughts, he perceived more than he heard steps passing the doorstep. Raising his head from its position, he glared angrily at Draco and Lupin. What were they doing here? Getting a good laugh at his expense?! They wouldn't be the first of the day and certainly not the last. Black was probably on his way to the Gryffindor tower to recall his 'victory' to his clan.

"Get out," he grumbled at them.

Lupin receded to the corridor but, to Snape's utter torment, Draco remained sternly in front of him, the boy's impassive yet tender eyes fixed on his.

"Get out!" he barked again at the boy. His body was burning with barely contained wrath. He wanted to be left alone! He wanted peace to keep turning over his suffering in his mind then deaden it in alcohol. Couldn't the child understand this?!

But again, Draco didn't move. Severus clenched his teeth. He pointed his forefinger at the boy. "Get out!" he yelled at him, body shaking with fury, eyes blinded with blood. "Will you get out!" he screamed with ferocity, "Get out! Expellus!"

Before he could stop, the spell was out of his hand, reaching Draco in a powerful blow and projecting the lithe body violently through the door, against the corridor's wall. In slow motion, Severus saw Draco's face twisting in pain and his lips letting go a hurtful whine then his body desperately falling to the floor where it landed, immobile.

Severus' heart stopped. 'I'm dreaming, aren't I?' he thought, appalled at his own action, 'He dodged the spell.' But Draco's body was still lying on the corridor's floor, unmoving. 'He's able to dodge it; he already did during training… Why didn't he avoid it? Why…'

Horrified, he registered Lupin running to the boy and attempting to get him to stir. "Severus!" Remus cried out to him, "He's bleeding!"

Snape looked at Lupin's hand with fright. It was red with drops of blood. Breath shaking, he joined the kneeling werewolf as Draco opened his eyes. They were rolling in his head and the boy fought to clear his vision.

"My head hurts," coughed the boy.

"Of course it hurts, imbecile…" whispered Snape with a trembling voice, "I'm taking you to the Infirmary."

"Madame Pomfrey won't be able to do anything about it…" Draco groaned in pain.

Snape and Lupin glanced at each other, surprised and worried… till the boy went on… "You'll have to kiss it better." Draco's lips curled up in a grin at their nearly-popping-out-of-their-heads eyes.

"You're a demon," hissed Severus without conviction.

"And a master no less." Draco lifted his head by an inch, prompting the man to his task if he wanted to get excused from hexing him. Sighing and praying a student wouldn't pass at that exact moment, Snape bent on the boy and brushed his lips on the young one's. His hair stood with electricity at the soft contact and he refrained a moan when Draco's mouth caressed his. This was better than imagination. How could he have hurt this boy? Why had he been angry anyway?

Too soon, space separated them. As silence was installing in the corridor, Draco swirled to Lupin, lips pursed and eyes like a lovesick puppy. He chuckled when Remus sighed and mirrored Severus.

Draco smiled contentedly to his ears. "I already feel better," he purred. And he fainted.

"The rascal…" muttered Snape, taking his wand out as Lupin cast an immobilising spell on the child. What an imbecile could Draco be sometimes. They levitated the boy to the Infirmary where they got scolded by the monster.

"What did you do to this poor child?" Poppy admonished while examining her patient.

Guilty, Severus lowered his sight to the floor. "He fell on the stairs," Lupin cut in, to his surprise. Why was the werewolf lying? He'd been there when that had happened; there was no mistaking the reason for Draco's wound. Madame Pomfrey glanced at them with suspicion but added no remark. "He has a small contusion," she finally stated, surely judging they had already paid enough for the boy's condition. "Not much but he needs rest."

She stared at them when they stood at the same place. "That means you get out," she cleared for them, her tone leaving no place for contradiction. Before they could react, they were being chucked out of the Infirmary and the door slapped behind them.

There was no noise to trouble the silence of the corridor. Both thrown in their thoughts, Remus and Severus made their way back to Snape's apartments. Under the shock of having Draco taken from them, they receded in their habit of half a year ago, when the child had disappeared with his father. The dungeon was cold and Remus was thankful when the Potions Master lighted a fire and served them a drop of brandy.

Despite the recent tension between them, it was good to be back here together. Remus had been stricken by the news that Draco felt the same for Snape and him, but the boy had been truthful. And Severus apparently felt no less for the child than Remus did… And Lupin owed a lot to the man for the Wolfsbane. Besides, Severus could be of very good conversation when he let go of his prejudices…

Only minutes later did Remus realise that he was searching for reasons to keep their growing friendship from falling because of some silly love fight. Severus could be so stubborn; he would never officially accept being only half a mate, but the simple fact that he hadn't cursed Remus yet for kissing Draco showed that he was willing to let go of his animosity.

"Why did you lie?" Remus vaguely heard Severus asking. Lie? He frowned. When had he lied? Oh… That… "When Draco's not here, someone has to take care of you not getting assaulted by Poppy," he replied, hiding a half-grin. Inwardly, he felt a pang of guilt. Snape wasn't the only one responsible for Draco's state. He had been, too, for allowing the situation to inflame without reacting.

When Sirius had been brought back, he had been so happy! Draco had offered him the most wonderful present he could ever have dreamt of. To have his last friend near him again, to know that Sirius was alive, safe and sound. But it had been selfishness and he had realised only too late.

Draco had given Sirius to Snape, and Remus had had difficulties understanding why. Severus' hatred of the Gryffindor was so phenomenal that he would probably kill the animagus in no time. But no, Draco had made sure that it wouldn't happen. Where lay his interest then? Remus had needed two weeks to fathom the truth. Lucius' misdeeds had been planning against muggles, Dumbledore, and Harry. The high lord now was helping the Order with protecting them from his past associates. He could even converse next to nicely with Harry. Severus' faults had been joining death-eaters, getting Remus sacked, and hating him for a story that the werewolf had had no say in. He had been a spy for Dumbledore, created and prepared Wolfsbane, and now could bear Remus in his chambers without menacing him. Both of the men had not only paid for their faults but also learnt from them.

On his part, Sirius's errors had been, from Draco's point of view, bullying Snape in their youth and attempting to feed him to Lupin, thus putting the both of them in danger, one of immediate death, the other of being shot down by the aurors. The man had paid in Azkaban then the Shadow World. But had he learnt?

"I know we're not on the best of terms since… that day. But… I won't force Draco to choose. I think he'd refuse anyway. So… Would you be friends?"

The look on Snape's face told him clearly that the man hadn't foreseen such a proposition of peace. Remus' breath got jammed in his throat. It was a big gamble to assume Snape could accept someone he had despised for more than half his life as a friend. Maybe the Potions Master had only wished for a person to fill the void that Draco's absence left on this evening and had been too tired to go and search for someone else when the werewolf had been within reach.

Severus peered at Lupin with an unreadable look. Was that a new dirty trick of these bloody Gryffindors? Could this Lupin be one of them, polyjuiced? But he had arrived with Draco, surely the boy would have recognised an impostor. Or maybe not… The man had been slightly surprised when Draco had asked for kisses, that was strange… 'Or quite simply I'm going as mental as Mad-Eye… This hangdog look can only belong to the true Lupin.'

'Did I imagine his antipathy two weeks ago? Had he never the will to oust me from the problem?… And now I begin underestimating the werewolf too… Life is getting hard…' Too many years spent as a spy, doubtful of each friendly hand and non-hateful look had rendered him suspicious and strained, on the lookout for betrayals from every side. He needed to calm down if he wanted his nerves to last until the end of the year.

"What were Draco and you doing here?" Snape asked at length.

Remus smiled at the change of subject. "Does that mean a 'yes'?" he inquired back, keeping his lips from curving and his voice from sounding high-pitched.

Severus glared at him. "That means I'll think about it," he replied darkly, irritated that the Gryffindor would only look happy about it.

Suddenly, they heard the characteristic clacking noise indicating the door was opening and their necks promptly rotated toward the source of the sound. In a dash, they were up and bolted at the newcomer, fussing over the child.

"What are you doing here?" admonished Snape, "You should be resting in the Infirmary." At the same time, Remus and he were, as gently as they could manage, pulling the boy to the bedroom so that he could lie down.

Draco was ready to black out, probably from the dreamless sleep potion that Severus had seen Poppy giving the child not half an hour ago. His temperature was barely mild and he was shivering. Around his head, a slightly red bandage was covering his wound.

"Draco!" Remus cried out all of a sudden, "Where are your shoes?"

The boy looked at the werewolf with nearly unseeing eyes then stared at his bare feet. "I don't know. I must have forgotten them… I was cold and she didn't want to let me go… I ran when she wasn't looking…"

They tucked him in bed and Severus cast a warming spell on the blankets. But Draco didn't stop shivering. His body was dangerously resisting the potion and his mind was caught in a world of semi-dreams made of his thoughts and the blank space created by the potion. "Draco…" Snape softly whispered to his student, "You need to sleep for the potion to act."

Draco glanced at him, unable to grasp the meaning of the words in his state. "I want Tom," he whispered in a strangled voice, "Why isn't Tom here? I'm so cold…" As if to stress his point, he trembled all the more. His face contorted with pain and a single tear dripped on the pillow, which Remus starred at in disbelief. "Severus," he whispered in horror, "It's ice." Rolling on the fabric, there was indeed a pearl of ice.

Lupin took Draco's temperature. "It's dropping," he stated, "It's as though he can't feel the warming spells." Acting quickly, he went to the bedroom's fireplace and incendioed the logs. Severus magically transported the bed closer to the chimney and to their relief, Draco instantly emitted a moan of contentment. "So warm," he sighed in pleasure. He opened his eyes and they were comforted to note that the usual flame in them was back. "Would you stay with me tonight?"

'Stay with… No… What?!' Draco hadn't been directing the request at one of them in particular, and Remus wondered with some anxiety which one of them the boy had had in mind. Surely the child hadn't been thinking quite clearly about the recipient of his attention for his eyes had already closed as he was falling into sleep. Still, Lupin coughed with unease. "I'll let you then," he announced in a murmur so as not to awake Draco. This was Snape's room after all. It was only right that he leave them in peace. Inwardly, he was surprised at his own acceptance of the situation and his resistance not to show his breaking heart.

But Severus glared at him. "Don't play the martyr Lupin!" he hissed. "Is there a way to counter your bloody Map?" He turned his back on the werewolf and rummaged through a drawer.

"What?" Lupin whispered back in stupefaction. Why did the Potions Master want that? "Oh…" Of course. It wouldn't do well for a student to be discovered in his Head of House's bed. "Yes, there is…" Surprisingly, it was Pettigrew that had thought that a spell protecting them from the Map's powers could be needed. Certainly the rat had been planning to betray them at that time and had so ensured a way of retreat. But it hadn't served him in the end: while in his rat form, he had had no wand to cast it.

At first, Remus went to lower his voice even more so that the Slytherin wouldn't hear the Marauders' secret when Snape tossed him a pair of pyjamas. He frowned at the Potions teacher.

Severus rolled his eyes. "No remark Lupin," he ordered, "Turn around and get dressed."

At that point, Remus noticed a similar pair of cloth in his colleague's hands. So, that was what the man had truly had in mind when he had asked for the spell… Effectively, they would be in dire need of it. Both chuckling at the situation and wrinkling his nose at the idea of it, he undressed and changed into the pyjamas, while hearing mirroring noises from behind his back.

The feeling was strange. He wasn't used to such soft texture on his skin. That was the good part of it. The bad one was the smell of Snape on the material. But, hell, he'd slept next to worse odours than this one... At least it was human.

Some minutes later, they both slipped between the sheets, each on one of Draco's sides, and were rewarded with a moan. When Remus spelled the room into being unplotable to the Map in a clear voice, Severus stared at him for a moment, astounded at the action. At last, he tucked in bed muttering that Lupin was a fool. Remus took it as an appreciation for his attention.

Then it was eerie silence in the room, only broken by soft purrs from a boy, happy at the warmth he was surrounded with…

**o-**

Proud of his actions and his putting the evil snake in his place, Sirius headed for the Gryffindor Tower where he knew Harry would be working. When he entered, he got surprised stares out of everyone: they hadn't been used to seeing him at this hour.

"Sirius!" cried Harry with joy.

The man grinned at the feeling of having his godson next to him again. Who did Snape think he was, preventing him from seeing the child? He had no right! Sirius was back and intended to spend all his time with Harry, all the time he had been denied because their so-called spy hadn't been able to give them more ample information about the attack at the Ministry.

But that time had ended. Snape was no longer needed for the Order. He was nothing but a death-eater. A death-eater that could be disposed of. That way, the Malfoy would lose his protection and Moony would stop spending so much time with the boy. Why hadn't his friend come and seen him when he was free of Snape's clutch? Remus had come and visited the Tower the first days then hadn't reappeared. Harry had mentioned that he ought to be in some Slytherin's lab with the Malfoy spoiled heir.

"Hey Harry! What are you doing?" Sirius inquired when he saw the mountain of books on the table his godson was working at.

"Oh that… It's an essay for Potions," the boy replied with a shrug. For all the efforts he had done to bear the Potions Master, he still hated his subject. Probably because he couldn't begin to understand it. But he tried nonetheless: Snape had almost died to protect him; it was the least he could do. Especially now that Snape wasn't half as bad during his lessons. He still took points out by handfuls, but he had stopped being so disagreeable. It was as if he had finally accepted that Harry wasn't his father.

"Potions?" repeated Sirius incredulously. "You're still working on it?"

"Yeah, but I don't know why I bother…" Two weeks ago, he had gone out to play quidditch with Sirius rather than working on his essay, and his grade hadn't varied an inch. "But tell me," he changed the subject, "How is it you're already here? Snape had enough of you?" Harry inquired with an amused grin.

"No, I sent him to Hell. I couldn't see anymore of his ugly face."

In the common room, students laughed scornfully, trying to imagine the scene with Snape getting told to fuck off by their hero. Sirius Black was a true Gryffindor, one that thought against Slytherins with the same arms. He was strong, he was witty, and he was faithful to his friends. Who could dream of a better godfather? Potter really was lucky to have him.

"Hey Sirius!" called Dean, "Why don't you tell us another story of when you were in school? One with Snape."

Sirius smirked. "Good idea! I'm particularly recalling one. It was in our fourth year…"

As the ex-convict was getting on about how they had humiliated Snape, Ginny observed the eager students in silence. All seventh years had forgotten about their essays. They were drinking Sirius' words avidly… well, almost all students. Harry looked very sceptical about it. She sighed and glanced at her best friend. Luna was reading next to her, clearly bothered by the noise of the laughter. It had become commonplace that the Ravenclaw girl would come in the Gryffindor tower to spend time with the young Weasley. Ginny elbowed her softly and indicated the dormitories with a sign of the head.

Since they were in a corner of the common room, to Sirius' back, no one saw them going. No one except the only other person that hadn't been captivated by the story. As soon had they entered Ginny's dorm, Hermione joined them. The head girl dropped on a vacant bed and opened her charms book to the page she had abandoned her lecture at then left it laying on the mattress and came nearer her friends.

"You're not listening to Sirius' story?" she inquired, not certain about the tone she should take.

Ginny sighed and shook her head in disapprobation.

"You can hardly call it a story," remarked Luna, "This is pure discrimination. It is no wonder that Snape hated Harry if his father and godfather had treated him so."

Hermione frowned. Just like the two girls, she didn't approve of such an attitude from Sirius. It was bad to make fun of someone. Especially of Snape, who had sacrificed so much for their side. She could understand the motivation though. Sirius had only got back from the Shadow World that he was offered to his worst nemesis. And Snape hadn't been particularly kind to him, to let him see Harry an hour a day. But when she voiced her opinion…

"Because you think that Sirius was mistreated?" inquired Ginny. "I think the contrary. I agree that he hadn't the best life, but Malfoy had said that Sirius would remain in this condition only till he decided it had been long enough," she recalled. They called what Sirius went through servitude. They had no idea what it was to be a slave. It was having no say at all in your life. It was looking at your life through a mirror. You couldn't choose what you did, what you said, or what you thought. You could only observe yourself in your everyday life and weep in silence for no one heard your tears. And she knew, for she had spent part of her first year in slavery.

"I don't see your point…" Ginny was really the only one that could make Hermione feel at a loss. She had perfectly fathomed the reason of Sirius' return: it had been to please Remus. And Malfoy had given the man to Snape in compensation for his miseries. So what did Ginny talk about?

As the Weasley girl didn't go on, Luna took over. "Malfoy certainly had something in mind to determine when Sirius' punishment would end. That means Sirius only had to discover what it was. But that's not the point. You said he was mistreated, but without Malfoy, he'd be rotting in the Shadow World. Besides, he was granted one hour a day with Harry. It is more that I would have expected from Snape. Thus it is certainly Malfoy that gave him this permission."

Hermione was getting the idea. Why? Draco didn't care about Harry. Why would he propose and agree to these visits then? Because he was waiting for something out of them. But what?

"Anyway, this won't be a problem for long," Ginny diagnosed.

Hermione's dubious look was enough for the girl to explain. "Malfoy won't be happy when he learns about Sirius' rebellion. He'll act upon it. And since he must have foreseen the situation, Sirius will lose." She didn't add that the man had well deserved to be put back in his place too.

"When did you become such experts on Malfoy?" asked Hermione, abashed at the plot they had untangled.

Luna grinned. "When Malfoy made a deal with Ginny, I started observing him. And there is one particular thing I noticed: he never does something without second thoughts. That is his first strength: he imagines every possibility before acting."

Hermione was impressed. They had done a very good job of it. Then she remembered that Ginny still hadn't revealed what exactly was Draco's deal. Each time one of them had asked, she had refused to give away any indication. Still it was important enough that it had provoked their research. The red-haired girl smiled. "I know your look, Hermione. But I won't tell anything. This is our secret, to Luna and me."

She pulled a face. "And you wouldn't tell me?"

"You work with Harry and Ron already. It is either them or us," warned Luna in a very serious tone. At that moment, Hermione wondered exactly how much the two girls truly knew. Had her trio missed that much in two weeks?

From the common room, they heard raised voices telling Neville that he'd missed the most fantastic story. The boy had been once more taking extra lessons with professor Sprout. The woman had made many praises about him last year and he intended to be worthy of them. Then it was total silence. Surprised, the girls went down.

"… and Malfoy was bleeding from the head," Neville was finishing when they arrived.

"And you came here immediately after?" inquired Harry, frowning.

"No, I had to give my essay to professor Sprout before."

They didn't have to wait for the students' babbling to again fill the common room. What was that about now? Hermione shouted to cover their voices. If Malfoy was harmed, somewhere in the castle, they had to help him. Still, she didn't believe Neville would give up a student, even Malfoy who had pestered him for years. When the calm was back, she asked for a complete version of the story. When coming back from the greenhouse, Neville had caught sight of Malfoy being levitated by Snape and Lupin toward the Infirmary. He was wounded at the back of the head.

"Who cares anyway?" inquired Sirius with indifference and a tinge of rancour. "It's a Slytherin."

When some Gryffindors agreed, Hermione glared at him. "You can keep your comments!" she spat, earning everyone's attention. She could bear stories about Snape, but not caring when something bad could have occurred was another thing. Malfoy and Snape had done enough for their side that the Gryffindors at least could have a little respect for them.

"Why?" Ron asked, "He's right. Who cares about Malfoy?"

Hermione fumed. "Who cares?" she shouted in mind at them, "I care! I care because since the beginning of the year he has always been correct to me! I care because he's Remus' friend! And I care because I think he deserves it more than some of you!"

She stormed out of the common room to the Infirmary. She had enough of these immature imbeciles! Since Sirius had come back, it had been worse and worse. All Gryffindors wanted to look like him, the great hero! Did they only have eyes to see, ears to listen and a brain to think? She had endured two weeks of it but had considered she was being too harsh on them. Her discussion with Ginny and Luna had showed her that she wasn't the only one. Sirius' comment had been the last straw.

On her way, she perceived the truth and stopped abruptly. Malfoy had allowed Sirius to meet Harry so that the Gryffindor would narrate him the events of the past year. He simply wanted Sirius to acknowledge Snape's work! Only that… Realisation was bursting in her eyes, every time Draco had given surreptitious glances to Sirius it had been to judge his progresses. And Ginny had known that! But had she been right? Had Malfoy anticipated everything?

Hermione was hesitating. She could go back to the Tower and explain to them her conclusions… Or she could go on her way… She envisioned the manner they would all greet her, traitor of Gryffindor to Slytherin, and finally continued to the Infirmary.

**o-**

**Monday, November the 23****rd**

Remus awoke and was immediately startled by presences next to him and a weight on him. A warm breath was tickling his neck, and, when he moved his head, he could feel soft locks of blond hair caressing his cheek. Then he remembered.

He had been waiting with Draco in Salazar's lab for Snape to arrive. After half an hour, the man still hadn't been here. Getting worried, Draco had departed for the Potions classroom, Remus on his tail. Both of them had feared the same: war. And if war it hadn't been, they certainly hadn't found peace either.

"… arse-licker of a Malfoy preferred pleasing Remus rather than granting your revenge to you?! You can do **nothing** to me!"

That had been Sirius' voice. Instantly, Remus had known that he could forget about his tranquil evening. Draco had promptly caught his robe and pulled him in a corner. Some seconds later, Sirius had passed by them without noticing them. Then the boy had gone for his second lover…

What had nurtured Sirius into saying that? Of course, he was angry at the whole situation, but that didn't allow him to insult Draco. Especially since the boy was everything but what he had been called. Hadn't Sirius detected the changes? Had the man only looked at anything past Harry these last two weeks?

The first evening, Remus had met his friend in the Tower. "Hello," was the only word they had exchanged. After that, Sirius had been too caught up with talking to Harry to notice that the professor had gone. After two days, Remus had stopped bothering and rather spent his time with Draco.

But how could Sirius use him as a way to get out of his condition?! He had been given to Severus, but Draco wasn't unfair; he would make sure the punishment wouldn't last more than necessary. But Sirius hadn't known that…

A body next to his stirred to life, and Remus suddenly realised that he was shoulder to shoulder with Severus and Draco largely spread out on them, covering part of them with his body. This was certainly the most unusual situation that he had ever been placed in, and there had been quite a few.

Snape grunted at the weight on him and extended a hand, exploring the bed with his fingers. They analysed Draco for a time then, deciding that the boy was at his place under the sheets, went further and met with Lupin. They paused abruptly. What was that under them? Why was it warm as a body? Why could they recognise the texture of one of their owner's pyjamas? Frantic, they climbed up the chest and found the bare skin of a neck. The person wasn't breathing. The fingers halted again, beat a retreat, and Severus rose on his elbows. The black eyes shared nothing of his secretive thoughts but, as the Potions Master was lying back down, Remus faintly heard a whimper that vaguely resembled. "I'll have to kill Albus for whatever he put in my brandy…"

The movement had awoken the last sleeping person in the bed. Draco yawned noisily and stretched lazily on them, flattening them out a little more in the process. If he contorted his neck, Remus could get sight of a content smile on Draco's lips. It made him look younger, sweeter, and happier, as he would after a night of sex. But there had been no flesh, only warmth.

The boy got up by crushing them, and, without having to look, the men were aware of his destination. There was one thing that Draco never lacked to do as soon as he awoke. The light 'taps' of the boy's steps were directed to the tainted window that he opened wide.

Snape hated flagrant light. It reminded him of how foul he was. But, for all its appeal, he didn't like darkness either. He was too afraid of getting caught in its web again. So he had long stayed alone in his world of grey, quartered by the two sides. Then Draco had appeared to keep him company, followed by Remus that simply didn't want to give up. Severus would deny it to everyone who would ask, but he felt better with these two people than he had in twenty years surrounded by those that named themselves his allies.

That feeling was bonding them together. They were strangers among their own peers. Severus was a known ex-death-eater on the side of Light, Remus was a werewolf living with humans, and Draco was a demonist in the middle of wizards. They were accepted, but no more. Whatever happened now, they would remain the grey ones of the war, those that hadn't found their place. Maybe they ought to add Lucius to their small company? As Remus heard Severus chuckling, he realised that the Potions Master's thoughts were alongside his. Never would they hold any physical attraction for each other, but both were aware that they now were too far-gone to step back.

In the silence of the room, they made a pact. They would protect their little world of grey. They would shield Draco even if it were the last thing they did. And at the end of the war, if this end ever came to exist for any of them, they would see what remained. But if they were to die, they wouldn't go easy to their murderers and before accepting to let go of life, they would make sure Draco was safe, sound and happy.

Draco inhaled the fresh air deeply and scoped the forest, roofed by a darkening, cloudy sky. And his eyes were unreadable and both men wondered where their Draco had gone. Every morning, the boy had this look on him, as he was called and fighting to resist the invitation. And every morning, a pang of fear swelled their hearts as they queried at how much time they had left before he disappeared again.

Remus had been pleasantly surprised when Severus had lent him a book on demonists. He had spent a sleepless night to finish it. A week after, he had already forgotten most of the passages and only recalled one thing: demonists were a strange folk. Not at all like wizards, maybe like they had been at the beginning of their race, when Merlin was still roaming the Earth.

They knew, and they hid it. Demonists were lonely and independent. They liked their space and privacy, and that, Remus and Severus could comprehend and respect. Where Draco went on his Sundays, where did he depart for at the rising of the sun, where did he come back from at the sunset? They had no idea. The boy hadn't fathomed they had seen him going. Just as he would never be aware of that the Sunday when he had first disappeared, they had broken in the lab only to find it deserted. The Pensieve had been on its usual place on a shelve. They had taken a look. Only a glimpse. And faced with the terrors of the child, they had been so ashamed at their action that never would they admit it, willingly or not. On these evenings, they thus lay inattentive eyes on his tangled hair, bruised hands, scorched clothes and generally damaged appearance. Wherever it was, it remained Draco's secret, and they would help him keep it.

Tearing himself away from his observation post, Draco slumped anew on the mattress. Wasn't it unconventional? A child in bed with two grown men. A student with two of his professors. Indeed, a child, not yet of age. Would they resist the temptation of young flesh, so eager to be ravished? Some more months and then… then… what would occur then? Draco would be eighteen. Their relationship would take an all-new dimension. But they weren't there yet. So many events could take place between now and then. So many people could enter or quit Draco's life. Would they only be there still?

"Why are you so dismal this morning?" asked the child with a grin. He was lying on his belly, long legs swinging the mattress and his buttocks back and forth. Lithe feet were bouncing on the firm and rounded cheeks. The sight was tempting, surreal.

They sighed, chasing their unholy thoughts from their minds. "We have much to discuss," reminded Severus.

Draco was waiting with the eyes of an innocent boy. And theirs moistened for it wasn't fake and that meant that, behind all the horrors Draco had already faced, there was a little part left of a once pure mind. Then he seemed to remember something, and the blue orbs got worried. "Did I say something yesterday? If I did, I didn't mean it. I wasn't myself."

Remus chuckled. The child was defending himself against invisible and non-existent enemies.

"Draco, where is Tom?" asked Snape out of the blue.

Draco's face shadowed. "I am not certain now. I just hope he is well. If he disappears…"

"Why would he disappear?" insisted Remus when the boy interrupted his confidence.

Draco choked. "I can't tell. Not yet… Sorry…" How could he admit such an unnatural thing? If it got out, people would try to hurt Tom when he was defenceless, and that he wouldn't allow. He had to make sure the boy was safe.

"Fine…" Snape accepted at length. But Remus could tell that the man wouldn't stop his investigations there. Why was Draco frightened of telling? Had the spirit found a way to manipulate or blackmail him? Or had someone else discovered how to blackmail Draco with Tom's life? "Then, I'd like to know why you let me hurt you yesterday?" The unusual flinch in the voice was the only indication at how much he was ashamed at his action. How could he have lost control so easily? His only consolation was to see Draco now, sound and cured.

Draco shrugged. "Well… You needed to vent your anger, and I also wanted to excuse… for Black… Truly, I didn't think that you really would attack me. You got me by surprise."

Only too late did he realise that he had blurted out too much. Snape was already gaping at him with confused, hurt, and disgusted eyes. They had known? How had they known? They had been here? They had heard? But…

Sensing the storm brewing, Draco had an awkward smile, and his pupils exhibited all the wittiness of the Slytherins. "But I'm talking and the time is passing. I'm certain that you don't want to miss breakfast."

There was no need for words. Snape had already forgotten his growing outburst and smirked. Remus sighed. He didn't want to know what the boy had in mind. This was their affair! If there was a confrontation between Slytherins and Gryffindors, he'd better not take part of it… Except that he wouldn't have a choice…

**o-**

**Back the previous day (Sunday, November the 22****nd****)**

When Hermione had arrived at the Infirmary, the door had been broadly opened just in front of her, and she just avoided connecting with her nose thanks to the quick reflexes of Harry that had apparently run after her. Madame Pomfrey was frantic. Her patient had disappeared! Just under her nose!

"He isn't in a state to wander the castle!" she shrieked, "Where could he go?!"

Hermione shook her head in disappointment. Malfoy was a nuisance like very few managed to become. Ah that… Snape had always said that too many actions of the Gryffindor trio were overlooked for the sake of the world, but in only some months, Malfoy alone would have got back at them for everything. "Probably in his lab," she suggested. Whenever the Malfoy boy disappeared, he was testing in the secret room, creating only Merlin knew what. She hoped Dumbledore was keeping a close eye on him, or one of his inventions might backfire on them one day.

Madame Pomfrey grumbled. "What would he do in a lab at this hour? He should already be sleeping because of the potion… didn't even take his shoes… with that cold…" While mumbling, she headed for the dungeons. Hermione and Harry followed, not daring to say anything else. Poppy's temper was famous in the school, and when she cared about a student's welfare, few were the professors that could keep her from acting like a mother hen.

They arrived in a completely dark corridor. Some turns before, the lightened lamps had stopped existing, and they were now advancing in darkness. Madame Pomfrey didn't seem to mind, and the Gryffindors stayed near, in case there was some oubliette in the floor… Not soon enough, she was knocking at a door they wouldn't have noticed had it not been for her knowing the place like her hand.

The door opened and let place to a vision of horror. Hermione and Harry shrank back out of fear. Snape in pyjamas. Rectification: an angry Snape in pyjamas. What was she thinking, to go to him at this hour? Especially after the Sirius incident. They retreated to a corner of the corridor, hoping the professor had been too occupied with the Mediwitch to notice them.

"Draco Malfoy disappeared," she informed, "I need you to open the lab."

"What for?" he snapped, "He's where he should be: in his bed, soundly sleeping. I was too when you decided to bother my rest," he added for good measure.

"Can I see him anyway?" she insisted.

"You're saying I can't take care of my children?" he accused harshly.

"Of course not!" she bit back on the same tone, aware she was engaging on slippery ground. The complete staff was aware of Snape's protectiveness of his students. They were his and he never let others interfere in his house affairs. "I just want to be certain he is well." She was the Mediwitch, not Severus. It was her work!

"He is and doesn't need you fussing over him. Good night!" And the door slammed in her face.

Hermione was stunned. Harry was choking back a laugh. Snape: one. Pomfrey: zero. "…stubborn as a mule…" he thought he heard her muttering. They had to go back to the Infirmary empty-handed. Poppy locked in the Infirmary, and they went away without a word.

What an evening… "Harry…" whispered Hermione, "Finish your essay then go to sleep," she counselled seriously. She blamed Sirius, but she had to make sure Harry wouldn't be hurt in the process.

He screwed up his eyes. "'Mione, Sirius is here," he reminded her, "I just came to see Malfoy wasn't in danger but now, I wish to spend some quality time with my godfather that I haven't seen in a while, if you remember." What was taking her? He agreed that Sirius hadn't had the best of attitudes, but he remained his last parental figure.

He was hesitating. His heart felt like it was torn apart. On one part, there was Sirius, a man he loved deeply, that would die for him; there was the Gryffindor house and his best friend. On the other, there was Snape, a man that he had hated for many long years, and a man that had run to death for him… There was Draco Malfoy, an arrogant, privy, and dangerous boy, one that was walking along the thin line between Dark and Light, that had set against everything he had ever believed in, and that had served his father to the Order. There was Moony, who had transformed Draco to the point of no return. And there was Hermione…

"I don't want to abandon him…" he unwillingly whined. He ached. The image of a little dark-haired Slytherin boy getting humiliated by Gryffindors was haunting his mind. The memory of Snape, lying in an Infirmary bed, dampening the sheets with blood, as Madame Pomfrey confessed that he might never awake. The memory of Malfoy, as pale as a ghost, on the point of breaking, admitting that he was being manipulated into killing him.

"And you aren't," soothed Hermione, "But he doesn't need you now, it's too late. Tomorrow he will, though. And tomorrow you will be here for him."

He sighed and nodded. And when he arrived back at the Gryffindor common room and Sirius smiled at him and he told them that Malfoy was fine and they groaned and he smiled and they talked happily for the rest of the evening while he finished his essay, he was still wondering if he had made the right choice.

**o-**

**The day after again (Monday, November the 23****rd****)**

Heart heavy in his chest, face paling out of stress, Harry reassured Sirius that he was fine as they headed for the Great Hall. He hadn't been able to sleep as remorse was eating him, and he had to resist getting up to warn his godfather against the demonist. Because Harry was certain of it: Draco wouldn't stand by his professor getting insulted and mocked. He was going to react, and it would be bad! But the situation would deteriorate if nothing were done about it… Sirius was going to hate him…

The man had been told almost nothing of the last changes in the Order. He was aware of Snape having been discovered as a spy, that the Malfoys had somehow moved back to the Light, and that Remus and Draco shared a special bond, but that was all. Given his reactions to these pieces of information, Harry hadn't judged it a good idea to tell more. He regretted it now. Had he explained more of the last events, maybe would history have turned out differently.

He thanked Merlin when the Great Hall revealed to be empty of students. It looked like Fate had decided for a private confrontation. Or rather, Dumbledore had made sure the affair wouldn't extend to the houses… Harry made to sigh in relief but his breath got stuck in his throat when he caught sight of Draco. The Slytherin was framed by Snape and Moony, looking slightly pleased. That wasn't good…

The few present Gryffindors were whispering among themselves, surprised at the absence of so many peers. Sirius was growing suspicious. This looked much too like a trap for him to feel safe. He got closer to his godson in order to protect him if there was a sudden attack and observed the faces. Snape's eyes had an evil gleam in them that he just couldn't miss. Clutching tight the teacher's arm was Moony, whispering anxiously to him.

"Severus," Remus called in a hushed and hesitant voice, "Please, I know I'm in no place to ask that of you, but… if you could not be too harsh on him…"

Remus knew he was tempting the devil, and the devil indeed voiced his hatred at the request. Snape glared at him, and Lupin back stepped from the accusing look. "Of course! As soon as your dog is menaced, you show your true colours!"

Draco eyed Remus sadly and for a second, Lupin hated Snape for making the boy doubt. "No! It's nothing like that!" he denied in a murmur, "I don't want to see the war between the two of you again! Don't you remember how it ended?"

Severus snorted. "I remember too well, on the contrary. That's why we're here." Never would he forget the fear he had experienced faced with the wild and raging werewolf. Black would pay for that!

"Then let Draco handle it. Punish him if you must but don't declare war again. I'll make sure that he apologises for everything. Please…"

Snape was wavering. Merlin, that was impossible. Lupin couldn't have been a Gryffindor! Someone had changed their memories from that time. He was angry at the possibility of letting Black escape, but inwardly, his mind was put at ease from the proposition. His Slytherin instinct had warned him it could get dangerous to defy the animagus but his pride yearned for crushing the Gryffindor.

Draco grinned at him, amused by the changes of colour of his professor's face according to his thought. "You'll have to work together at one time or another," he assumed. When he had taken Black back, he hadn't known the man, apart from some old tells of his mother. He hadn't guessed the man could be so obtuse, obstinate, and deliberately malicious. He was a Gryffindor after all, and Gryffindors were supposed to be good. Slytherins had the monopoly of icy hearts. How Lupin could have been a friend and even come to love such a heartless bastard was beyond Draco.

Severus sighed. "Fine." Before the coming Gryffindors could make a remark, he vanished from the Great Hall, feeling confident that Draco would make this subtle retreat pass as commiseration. They were Slytherins after all, and Slytherins supported each other against adversity. Well… He hoped…

Sirius snorted and let go of Harry. Either there had been no plot from the beginning, or Snape had fled from the battlefield…

"Black!" called Draco, a little smirk playing on his lips as he walked to his interlocutor. "I had some doubts yesterday that you truly were a Gryffindor." 'And not a Slytherin in disguise,' he added to himself. "But to show up today, your temerity can indeed only belong to a red one."

"Temerity that some certainly do not share," scorned Sirius, certain that no one would miss the connection with Snape's sudden exit.

Draco's eyes opened wide in surprise and some Gryffindors sniggered. What? Was that boy so full of himself that he couldn't imagine a Gryffindor with so common a come back? Draco was still looking at him with wonder and some reproach, as though waiting for something.

"A problem Malfoy?" Sirius sneered. "Cat got your tongue?" His arrogant tone hid his slight fear as he was reminded that it was none other than this child that had taken him out from the Shadow World, that masked and cloaked people had accompanied him, and that Dumbledore somehow seemed to trust him. Sirius had a good comment on the tip of his tongue but a glance at Moony refrained him from letting it go. Remus was glowering at him, and the sight was enough to destabilise him. Moony had never been angry with him, never! Except…

Frowning, he turned back to Malfoy. The Slytherin hadn't moved. They were up to something! He was certain now! It had all been a plot, and Snape was manipulating Remus as revenge against him! He made a step toward his friend, but Draco sighed, the sound making him stop.

"You're more of a deception than I would have expected from Potter's godfather…" Malfoy drawled, shaking his head with blame.

Harry gaped. Malfoy was giving him a compliment. A twisted, made-to-hurt flattery, but a praise nonetheless. What was happening here? Was Malfoy so sure of himself in this that he dared to compliment a Gryffindor?

"He, at the least, has a modicum of common sense," went on Draco. None reacted, too stunned to act. His eyes hardened, and he scowled at Sirius with admonition. "You kneel to greet your master," he reprimanded.

"What?!" exclaimed the Gryffindors, shocked at such an outrage. But before any could tell more or Black punch the git for such a scandalous suggestion, Sirius felt his legs tottering and all strength failing him as he went down on his knees in front of the Slytherin. He couldn't respond, he couldn't insult the rod, he could only snarl at the offence. Grinning, Draco patted his head. "Good dog."

Behind him, Remus was staring at his ex-best friend and new lover. He hesitated on whether to chuckle or be horrified at it. If Severus hadn't gone away, the sight he would have been awarded would have been payment for many, many pranks. Moony would have to put it in the man's Pensieve as thanks for accepting his request. He wasn't aware of the pair of eyes observing them from behind a corner.

Students were screaming, taking their wands out, yelling at the obvious Imperious that was being used to subdue their hero. But the headmaster, that had remained observant since the beginning of the feud, ordered them to calm down.

"Children," he beckoned, "This affair doesn't concern you. Sirius chose a path; it is too late for him to change." Albus wasn't happy with what he was doing, but this affair had to be settled. Dark times were ahead, and old petty disagreements would only entail misfortunes. As it already had, twenty years ago… Had he tried explaining the problem to Severus, had he not protected Sirius, had he repaired the injury made to the Slytherin, would his friend have joined Voldemort? He wouldn't repeat his errors.

"He chose a path?" echoed Harry, frightened, "What do you mean?"

"That he is nothing but a dying man I took from his prison," replied Draco in the old wizard's place. He swirled back to Sirius, his looks dangerous, shadows in his tail, waiting to be unleashed, to punish the offender. "You forgot your place, Black," Draco spat the name. "I gave you to professor Snape, but you deliberately decided to disobey one of his orders. You insulted him, then me. You made a mockery of him whereas he was the reason you were out of your Hell!"

What? Sirius froze on the cold floor. Malfoy had already mentioned something like that two weeks ago… But that was stupid! Remus had been the only incentive! Why would Snape have helped him come back? They hated each other!

"I should send you back for this insubordination," warned Draco. Remus shuddered involuntarily as Draco lifted Black's chin so that they were eye to eye. "I could but I won't. It never was my intent. But as I said, you forgot your place. Remember who caught Wormtail, Black. It wasn't you or one of your disgusting groupies. It was my mother. Without us, Slytherins, you're nothing but an escaped convict, dying in a world he can't begin to understand."

Sirius's breathing was quickening. He knew that! And that's what he had been trying to forget for the past weeks! That he owned his innocence to his cousin and his life to her son. The truths being spat in his face were hard to bear. But who cared about these verities? He was someone now while they were nothing!

But Draco was going on. "When I took you out, you accepted the deal. Now you have to pay by its terms. Because you used your demon status to get away from harm, you will also be punished by their laws."

"What?! You can't! I'm a human!" He wasn't even surprised to discover that he could talk again; the blow to his vanity was too much to take. He didn't know much about demon laws, but demonists were neither nice nor gentle… They were reputed to be possessive… And he had insulted a friend of Malfoy's.

"No, you're nothing."

The use of the word he had been qualifying them with some seconds before struck him.

"You once were a true Black, and I had vainly hoped that you could have inherited from the family the same good traits as my mother. But she talked to me about you, and I realised my hopes were unfounded. Then I thought that, maybe, Azkaban and the Shadow World would have taught you some compassion, pardon, guilt, or respect. Again, I was wrong. After all these years, you're still the same obnoxious git."

Draco never glanced at the Gryffindors. Only the body of Black separated the bunch of students from him. Many were gritting their teeth, but some were calming down, wondering where was the truth in the harsh words. "I offer you this day to talk a last time with your friends," Draco let the sentence fall, "Tomorrow, you will enter at my service, and I assure you that Snape's demands will seem heaven compared to what awaits you with me. You will serve me to excuse for your past errors and only an action worth redeeming your misdeeds will grant you again your freedom."

o-

The room he had been given was particularly empty. Students had been forced to go to classes, soon followed by their professors, and Sirius had remained alone for his last day of liberty. At first, he had gone to Dumbledore, in expectancy that the old man would have a solution for him. But the headmaster had explained it had been only his choice to make, and it was too late to turn back. He then had tried to escape but had soon realised that the strange curse that was on him prevented him from running away. He thus had retired to his room and absorbed himself in the contemplation of his ceiling. His only consolation was that the Gryffindors should be giving Hell to Snape in their potion class.

He wasn't certain of what to think. It was actually rare that he really felt at a loss, but it was one of these times, and it was hard to bear. How could they all believe what Malfoy said? How could they allow him to treat him so? Sirius had narrated Albus how, when Draco had rescued him, he had been surrounded by death-eaters. But the great wizard had claimed that Malfoy was not Voldemort's minion. Harry too had protected the Slytherin. Had they all been brainwashed? Or had he missed something?

His feelings were messed up. He wasn't sure on what to believe anymore. He hated Snape and the Malfoys, and they loathed him in return. Yet they had helped him. Remus was his friend, his almost brother. Still he had blamed him. His heart was so confused that he allowed rage to fly in once more. It was the Slytherins' fault! They had bewitched Dumbledore, Moony, and Harry! He wouldn't let them! He reached the door in a dash and opened it wide, only to bump into a human form; both stumbled to the floor.

Surprise choked him as he helped his visitor up. "Don't you have classes to teach?" he asked with astonishment, immediately forgetting his previous anger. Out of the four Marauders, Moony had always been the serious one, the bookworm of the group. He was certainly less of a bore than Hermione appeared to be from time to time, but he used to make sure they had most of their homework done in time. It was indeed peculiar of him to miss classes.

"I do," the professor replied, raising his eyebrows, startled that his past friend had only remembered the role he played in the school. He dusted his robes with light brushes of the hands, aware that it made him look fussy, but he had few enough set of robes that he could take good care of them. "But I needed to talk to you. I used Draco's duplicating draught." He smiled. Such sensations he had never felt. His mind was here, but it was elsewhere. He was walking into Sirius' room, but he was making a demonstration to his students. It was incredible, even with the knowledge he'd have a headache for the next few hours. Draco had warned him about the secondary effects of the potion: the mind was split in two, causing stress to the brain and, if used for a prolonged period, weakening the heart. The many months Lucius had spent under the potion's influence were the main reason for his current fragility.

"Duplicative draught?" Sirius repeated, frowning. "Harry talked about that…" Or so he thought he remembered. He wasn't certain, given the very little attention he had wasted on every Slytherin-related tale.

Remus smiled at his friend. The mention of Draco hadn't induced the horrible reaction he had anticipated from Sirius. However, as he assumed it was only a matter of time, he'd better make use of the respite he was offered. "I suppose he did. It caused many comical situations this last year. And I'm pretty positive that this isn't the last either…" He stopped as Sirius's eyes were shadowing, presenting a look he had never expected to see on the man.

"What's happening here, Remus? All this that you tell me… I feel like I missed something so important that it affected all of you." He couldn't fathom it. Harry was happy, Remus was happy. Dumbledore was confident on the outcome of the war. And Malfoy was at the centre…

"Yes, Sirius. You missed the redemption of a snake."

This was the last blow to his pride. His brain was definitely fucked up. "I don't understand. How can you all believe that? He's a Malfoy, he's evil!" There was little ire left in his voice. He was tired of resisting, of fighting for his world back, of vying with Draco for the title of 'saved' evil man.

"And you were a Black…" Remus reminded gently. "We didn't think any less of you. I still don't." He looked at his friend struggling with his emotions. Sirius had been a messy, evil child back in school, but Lily's influence had progressively transformed James, then him. He could be good and nice when he wanted. He just needed the right incentive. Despite all he wanted to believe, Azkaban and the Shadow World had left him on edge; and the two weeks since his come back hadn't improved the situation.

It had been a surprise to Remus to discover Sirius and Draco couldn't bear each other. To Sirius, Draco was a Slytherin. To Draco, Sirius was a Gryffindor. Yet they were so much alike… Both had faced their families, their beliefs. On Draco's part, there was little that he could change: the boy simply didn't care for his elder past his relation with Remus. But on Sirius' side, Lupin would work and make him realise that the fatherly feeling he desperately tried to hide could apply to many persons.

o-

Contrary to what Sirius hoped, and considering the situation, the Potion class went by relatively calmly. When hearing about it, Slytherins had rejoiced at the breaking of their enemy. Draco had snorted at that. Not at his mates, but at the Gryffindors. Dumbledore had done them a good turn by keeping the meeting secret, and they had been stupid enough to insult Malfoy, revealing part of the affair in the process.

Draco hadn't missed the look of pain on Potter's face at the Slytherins' comments then at the Gryffindors' retorts. But the Golden Boy hadn't opened his mouth. Next to Hermione who was also silent, along with Neville, he was working on his potion, and he had missed so many classes in order to train in dark magic that he much needed the concentration. Draco went on playing with his ingredients, observing his fellows. He could brew the potion in half an hour anyway; that left him plenty of time.

Severus scanned his students insulting each other. A gush of pleasure filled him at the stoning. It had been long since his children had so valiantly fought for him. It had also been long since he had last enjoyed sharing their company. When he had been a spy, before Voldemort had reappeared, he had been like a second father to them, filling the void that their non-loving parents had left inside of them. But the return of the dark lord had changed that. He had been forced into servitude again, he had hated bowing, obeying. This dislike had transferred on the children. Being discovered had made them fight back and allowed him to let go, to avenge for his years of slavery. Draco's actions and Tom's existence had brought them back to him.

They now were sharing a strange relationship made of trust and suspicion. He would counsel them in their choices, narrate his experiences to them, and save them from their fate if they came to him. And if they took the wrong turn, he would punish and forgive. They all knew that, whatever happened in the future, there was a place where they could find refuge. It was their first step to the Light.

Never would a Gryffindor understand that for they never had lived it. To look at the world around you and discover you were alone, that wherever you go, you would be rejected for your birth, for your parents, for your house, for your beliefs. Some may go to Dumbledore as a last resort, but so few, out of how many that would be lost? Severus would make sure that it wouldn't occur again. There would always be a place where they will be welcome.

Unwanted, an image flew in his mind. The memory of a man, being taken away from a massacre and condemned then shut up as an assassin. The face of an innocent for the misdeeds they accused him of. Grunting with hatred, he dismissed the vision. Black was guilty! He had tried to kill him!

His eyes locked with Draco's, and he shivered at the light smirk on the boy's lips. As if he knew what was passing by his professor's brain. From far away, Severus still distinguished the names Sirius and Black from the students' hissing. In Draco's eyes, there was a flame that hadn't been there previously, and Severus was startled by the similarity. This gleam was so rare in a look; it was fierce, it was strong, it was wise. A glimmer he had once observed on Narcissa, and once on a man that was still a child at that time.

Draco smiled at him, and Severus felt a bead of sweat dropping down his back. The boy opened his mind, and his elder entered inside, quickly surrounded by shadows.

Where was he? His breathing became harsh and rough under the oppressing atmosphere. Everything was dark around him, and he could see nothing of the creatures that he felt moving around him, through him sometimes, of the people whose voices he could distinguish in blurs. Was it Draco's mind? What did it mean? He concentrated to go out and realised with fright that he couldn't. His soul was jammed inside. Well. No panicking. Draco would soon notice there was a problem and expel him by breaking eye contact. He sat on the ground and waited. Breath came out of his throat in coarse and guttural rushes of wind. The air was hot, and thick sweat caused his clothes to stick to his body.

His heart stopped a second as a creature traversed his body, and he trembled at the sensation. He lacked a part of him, as if some of his soul had been sucked from the contact. Were those dementors? No, the things went for happiness, only their kiss could steal the soul… Having no way of spotting the creatures, he couldn't avoid another to go through him. His head was charged by the encounter, and a bad feeling ate his body. Where was he? He had to move! He got up, but the movement generated heat, and he choked, his lungs not managing to ventilate his too hot body.

He wandlessly cast a cooling charm, but no fresh air circled him. Frowning, he used his wand and repeated the spell. Nothing happened. He resisted the panic that threatened to drown him. Slowly, as not to engender more warmth, he took off his robes and jacket and breathed anew as his temperature lowered a little. He needed to go out. If he remained here, he didn't know how long he would last.

"Draco! Draco!" he called then yelled. The boy HAD to be near! HAD to hear him!

A grey shadow moved next to him, and he shrieked. It had been of human form. What did it mean? The shadow had disappeared already. And suddenly, he understood. This spot could only be located in one place: the Shadow World. He somehow had fallen in it when penetrating Draco's mind. These memories dated from when he had rescued Black. Severus gritted his teeth. The Gryffindor would have his death!

"Draco!" he screamed again, scared. It had now been some minutes he had been here. Surely the child suspected something!

He screeched as another shadow skimmed him without warning. He hated that! This sensation of lightning making its way in his veins, in his brain…

And his prayers were answered. In the darkness, a fire was lightened. Frantic, he strode along to it, thanking for the presence, contending with the creatures he met and their tentacles clutching at his soul. He shivered when noting that the light carried little distance, the shadows eating any glow that might penetrate their world. His heart beat frenetically when he recognised dark human forms and Draco at their head, carrying a torch. Yet they couldn't see him. He thus was in a memory and somehow, the different world prevented him from going out before Draco had left it. Slightly reassured, he followed the group, pondering.

The humans behind Draco were cloaked and masked the way of death-eaters. Yet he was almost certain they weren't death-eaters. First, Draco wouldn't be with them, and second, they lacked the rage to kill that was the common smell of Voldemort's minions. They had to be very close friends of Draco for him to accept them at his side in this world. But who? It couldn't be students; they had remained in Hogwarts at that time. Someone he had met maybe? These people he met each Sunday?

They walked for some time till he caught sight of a small light, coming from a body. The man was prostrated half-naked on the floor, sweating and panting. Severus was shocked, despite his knowledge of the future, when he recognised Black's features. The Gryffindor was clutching his head in a tight grip, probably racked by the same creatures that had assaulted Severus. Lips dry and swollen by the lack of water let harsh and rare breath escape, and whimpers of pain shook the dying body.

The sight was unsettling, the opposite of what Severus was accustomed to. Sirius Black was a tough wizard, hardened by life and his natural temper. He wasn't fragile, nor weak, and certainly not vulnerable. Who was this man, resting between life and death, face contorted by hurt, sadly anticipating the moment when the last remnant of his soul would be raped away?

Severus' eyes were glued to the wizard who was cautiously being laid on a cover by the strangers. Black's condition was so lessened that he drooped in the fabric like a rag doll and never moved when being transported though the Shadow World. Snape stalked the group, careful not to let the gap between them lengthen. The light protected them from shadows and only Draco's energy fed it enough to keep it from failing.

If this was the wall, what could be expected of the Demonic World? Was it alike the Human's, or akin to the Shadow's? Could a human live in it? Was there any life apart from demons? 'But…' Severus suddenly wondered, 'How is it that there's a door toward the Shadow World in the Ministry? Who opened it?! It has to be demonists, but then, where would be the point in leaving it at everyone's reach?'

At length, Draco stopped and deposited his torch on the ground. Soon, its glimmer started wavering. But the boy didn't mind as he grasped thin air and pulled it like he would a hanging, revealing the outside world. An instant later, the group had exited. Severus marched to the door…

… And bumped his desk. He blinked, startled by the sudden change. He was back, and Draco was observing him with a gleam in the eyes. What had this child in mind? Draco swirled his head to Potter then swiftly back to his professor. Severus frowned. The Gryffindor was busy concentrating on his potion, rereading his recipe every five seconds. Around him, students were hissing at each other, forgetting their work out of swelling hatred.

Was that what Draco wanted? Why? Did he truly believe that the little show of weakness from the Gryffindor before his rescue would make Severus modify his long-time rancour at his encounter? To the point of sparing his godson some well-placed insults? His lover had lost his mind!

Draco was going on looking at his professor with intent, a little smile playing on his so tempting lips. 'Go on', he seemed to tell, 'You know you don't hate him. Not anymore. Do you want to crush him in your quest for revenge? If you decide to, I won't try to stop you, but you know you don't. You're not like that. You a Slytherin, and our justice is fair. We don't punish the innocent; we don't destroy the child. Be true to your heart, Severus, just as I was when I vowed my love to you.'

Snape remained quiet, mesmerised by the silent words from Draco's mind. It was the first time in his short life that the boy called him by his given name. It had always been 'professor' or 'sir'. Not this time; Draco had chosen to use a much more personal name. As though he completely acknowledged their relationship. Ever so slowly, the Master's lips twitched. Once, twice, then they curved upwards. He was ready to follow Draco's scheme. Whatever the child wanted. And somewhere at the far end of his brain, a little voice which he focused no attention on whatsoever was telling him that the boy had him looped around his finger.

o-

The weather had been cloudy for the last few days, sensing the sultry atmosphere inside Hogwarts, the tension among its inhabitants. In the afternoon, the brewing storm had broken at last. Thick and heavy raindrops were banging against the large windows causing the students to flinch out of anxiety that the magic that protects the school would come to lack. Dark thunder was echoing throughout the corridors and rooms, leading to cohorts of children studying in the Great Hall, waiting apprehensively for dinner.

The teachers had sensed their students' incoherent distress. What could occur in Hogwarts? But they weren't afraid, no, not really; it was more out of instinct that they had reunited in the largest room of the castle. They wanted to be together, tightly grouped against the flashes of lighting that defied the magical candles and brightly illuminated the walls of the Great Hall. The professors found no complaint about that: the children were calm like they had rarely been. The storm was taking away their thirst for fights and blood; it fed off their aggressiveness.

Children weren't the only ones affected by the tempest. After spending some time to calm their students, the professors had found no strength to leave the Great Hall and go back to their solitude. Soon, the ghosts and paintings themselves had felt drown to the room, following the magical attraction that resulted of the storm and union of so many wizards.

Sirius had met with Harry, willing to spend his last hours with the one he loved most dearly. At first, they had wanted to find a quieter place to discuss and enjoy each other, but the void left in the castle by the absence of every living being had stopped them. Their isolation had been frightening in itself, and a chill had travelled their backbones till they had decided to walk back. They somehow managed to find a moderately deserted corner in the Great Hall.

Harry was narrating to Sirius how Snape had put an end to the stoning of his arch-enemy during Potions, menacing students with points if one dared open his mouth again, which was extremely rare of him since the beginning of the year. The Slytherins had been smirking at first, thinking that their head of house would support them. How wrong they had been. Still, it had been Malfoy that had confronted them on that. Pansy Parkinson had made to launch an attack at Harry, but no sound had come out of her open and moving mouth. Then Draco had turned deadly eyes on her, scorn and disdain evident in his look. "You should go back to your cauldron if you want to hear this high-pitched voice of yours once more in your life," he had said. Blaise Zabini had muffled a laugh at her outraged face. No comment had left its owner's mind after that.

"Harry," Sirius suddenly interrupted, "Why didn't you tell me what Snape had done?" Of all the revelations that Remus had disclosed, the story about Snape's sacrifice for Harry had been the hardest to bear. There had been rumours for some months that Voldemort had discovered a ritual that would allow him to take the control of Harry's mind despite any magic that would protect the boy. The place and the items for the ritual had been kept secret from every death-eater till the fateful day. The plan had been perfect, and only Snape's intervention had prevented the worst from happening. He had offered his own life for the sanity of a boy he hated. But Death hadn't wanted him; the role that Fate had assigned to him hadn't ended yet. He had to remain alive, for Draco's safety.

"I often thought of it," Harry admitted with regret, "but always dismissed it. I was so happy to have you back that I didn't want to soil it by giving you news you wouldn't like." Maybe if he had, the present would have been different. It was too late. In some hours, Draco would come and collect his new demon. Harry was confident that the Slytherin would treat his godfather well; he was a nice person when not defied. But he was sad anyway; he wished Dumbledore had let him use the time-turner...

A thunderbolt shook Hogwarts on its foundations. Students trembled and huddled together nearer the professors' table. Draco looked at the windows as another lighting streaked the sky. He knitted his brows.

"Is there a problem?" Remus inquired nicely. He had been preparing his next class when a house-elf had joined him, stating Dumbledore's orders that they were to regroup in the Great Hall. When entering the room, his natural reaction had been to join Severus. Funny how some months of collaboration could change men. Draco had arrived some time later, a tense look of doubt crossing his face.

"No," reassured the boy, "A bad feeling, that's all." But this sensation that strained his mind didn't want to leave. It was all too present, gnawing his heart and sapping his strength. Unaware of his master's tense mind, Karnar was sitting on his lap, biting and licking at a lemon sherbet, a present of Dumbledore. His head was resting against Draco's torso, and he purred when his master's lithe hands caressed his hair. The little devil's gold eyes were fixed on the windows, and he shivered at each lighting bolt, enticed by the power of the storm.

"Draco," Severus beckoned when the boy didn't give away any sign of wanting to go on. "I wondered something when you showed me your memory: why is there a passage to the Shadow World in the Ministry?"

Remus' ears twitched. The question affected him. Severus was right: why should there be a door in the Ministry? The only ones that could use it to pass from the Human World to the Demonic one were the demonists, and they needn't it, being able to create the portals.

Draco smirked. He had wondered how long it would take them to voice this strangeness. He looked at Karnar who, with much concentration, was licking his fingers clean from some sticky drops of sherbet and was reminded of his younger years, when he would be stealing ice-cream in the kitchen and eating them by litres, hidden in the crypt. How many times Alayin had been forced to magically clean his clothes from remnants of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and whatever had been his delightful pleasure of the day so that he wouldn't be scolded when getting home?

"You remember that during the sixteen century, the wizarding centre of the United Kingdom wasn't situated in London but in Glasgow? London was free of wizard influence, and many demonists had chosen to live in near towns such as Newbury or Winchester. It is taught enough in history books: at that time, wizards and demonists hated each other. When Great Britain and Scotland were united three hundred years ago, wizards invaded demonic lands. Demonists fought back. It was the Dark Times. Around 1730, the war stopped due to the disappearance of demonists. Wizards had won. That's all."

Remus blinked, and Severus snorted and asked. "If that was all, you'd have answered my question. You told me nothing more than I already knew."

Draco grinned. He observed Karnar getting up and stretching his arms with a little yawn, then running to the small entrance of the Great Hall, whose windows were lower and which he could look through. "A pity you noticed. A Gryffindor would have bought it. Indeed, there is a particular reason for the existence of this gate."

Draco's voice was getting low, and Remus brought his chair nearer as not to miss a part of the explanation. What secret would Draco now disclose? He was excited by the trust that Draco displayed for them, revealing long-forgotten secrets. "Demonists are close to Nature, more than common wizards are. They master elements whose existence wizards have no idea of. During the eighteen century was the first industrial revolution of the muggles. Demonists were disgusted by the disappearance of their forests; they searched refuge in more isolated regions but, as they hadn't anymore of the muggle protection, wizards pursued them. At length, demonists had enough, and, led by Lady Hyayin, the first Veil's master, they organised a massive exodus."

An exodus? So demonists hadn't died? They had mostly gone away!

"Most demonists were part of a community whose some members were able to create portals. They thus all departed to the demonic world. Still, there was a danger. What would happen should a demonist be born in a muggle or wizarding family after their departure? Wizards would kill him before he could grow enough to learn to open the gates. So Lady Hyayin left an opening: the Veil."

"But how did little demonists know of its existence?" inquired Remus.

Draco's eyes were glinting with a strange gleam, mix of lust and intelligence. "Because the Shadow World calls for us."

_He remembered being young and accompanying his mother to visit his father working at the ministry. "Mum," he said, "Who is behind the tapestry?" _

"_Nothing, dear. It is empty. That's why you can't go there. You wouldn't be able to come back."_

His mother held his hand and took him away. From the other part of the hanging, the voices went on calling for him. They were whispering at him to meet them; they were recounting the splendours and magnificence of the Second World. He wanted to see too. Why couldn't he go there? Why was it forbidden?

"_It isn't empty, Mum," he had replied, "There is someone talking."_

_Narcissa smiled at her son to hide her fright. What if Draco wanted to traverse? He was a curious boy; she wouldn't let him out of her sight. And she would inform Lucius of it. "You must be mistaken, my sweet. The Shadow World is empty. There is only death in there."_

_However young Draco was, he wasn't stupid. He knew there was something behind. It was the other people that were deaf if they couldn't hear the voices. But he stopped moaning to go; it would only anger his parents. And if they were annoyed, they would observe him more and discover his hiding-place, his playing refuge. That wouldn't be good: his Dad had already refused to let him go there. _

"When a demonist is born, he is attracted by the Veil, or more specifically, by the shadows behind. He traverses it and falls in the Shadow World. There, he is felt by the demonists on the other side, and they come for him."

Remus and Severus were silent. They hadn't foreseen that. They understood the reason of Draco's moony mood. They realised what he was looking at every morning, and their hearts clutched. How much time would pass before the attraction became too much to bear? Would he give in? Would he abandon the Human World in favour of his homeland? "But why is it in the Ministry?" insisted Snape.

"Well… When wizards invaded London, they soon felt the magic emanating from the Veil and discovered that once someone had entered it, they couldn't get out. They attempted to destroy it but failed, thus to protect the secret of magic from the muggles, they built the Ministry around it. Later, they used it as an expedite way to get rid of the last demonists they collared." Draco smirked. "They never knew what happened to them."

"Oh… Thankfully, people's attitudes have changed," Remus shrugged. "A little…" He couldn't forget the night when Draco had almost been sent through the Veil, condemned by the aurors' unfair justice. "But…" he recalled and frowned, "Why were you afraid of the Shadow World if you could create portals?"

Draco sighed. "I knew I could go through it, yet I wasn't certain I'd be able to come back."

"Still you went for Black," recalled Severus, slightly angry with the boy. Draco had taken risks. Had he been so sure of himself to put his life in danger for a Gryffindor? A Black?

Draco smiled. "Yes, I had got information by that ti…"

Draco never stopped his sentence. For an instant, his face was frozen in shock, his eyes had turned unseeing, and his mind was registering a danger. The next second, he jumped up and spun to the little door. A dozen meters away, Remus saw the little devil had half-opened it, slipped his hand outside, and raised it to the sky. "Karnar, no!" screamed Draco. His voice was covered by a thunderbolt. Remus cried out and raised his hand to his eyes out of dolour; the lighting had been so bright.

Students were shrieking and yelling. Lupin blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes to restore his full sight. It was still blurry, but he distinguished Draco running toward his demon, followed by Severus. The little devil was lying on the floor, unmoving. 'Oh no…' Calming his raging heart, he joined his lover by Karnar's side.

"Don't touch him," advised Dumbledore, "He may need care." The old man wasn't certain about what had occurred. The child had been fine, even half-outdoors. How could the lighting have touched him? Hogwarts ought to be protecting its inhabitants; what had happened? He tried scanning the little body for injuries, but the demon condition prevented him from detecting wounds.

"He needs me," Draco said back. He clutched the child in his arms and sat on the floor, Karnar above him. To everyone's relief, lithe hands grasped Draco's clothes, and the young face buried in his robes, which Draco folded over him. Karnar was trembling, shaken by his experience, and he sobbed inside Draco's shoulder.

Dumbledore scattered the crowd of students that had formed around them and helped Draco, who didn't let go of the little devil. They went beside the teacher's table where they would find some calm. Draco rocked the child up and down, soothing his fear with gentle hushes. "Shh, it's fine now, there's no danger…"

Suddenly, a little voice was heard from Draco's robes. "Ik nerst falin…" the demon said timorously, his sobs dying down, his body relaxing under the waves of transmitted energy from his master.

Draco's lips gave away the smallest of smile. "Because it wasn't a demon, precious; there are only natural storms in this world."

Nimble fingers fiddled with the cloth, and the angelic face came out of its hiding place, eyeing its master with wonder and suspicion. "Erst zil?"

Draco cupped the boy's cheeks, massaging his scalp to ease the bad memories away. "It is. It's my fault, I should have talked to you about them."

Severus was dumbfounded, dazed by the ethereal gentleness of Draco for Karnar. He had known that his lover looked at his demon just as a son, but the extent of Draco's devotion and love stunned Severus. From as far as he could recall, Draco had possessed no such parental figure. Lucius and Narcissa had certainly been good parents to Draco, but none would have given him such an open and frank example of care. Where did that come from? Could it be a secondary effect of his transformation into demonist?

His thoughts drifted away as dinner took place. Karnar was already on his feet, leaping around and playing merry-go-round around Draco. Merlin, this demon had just been hit by a thunderbolt! Of course, he was a master of thunder; still… Had Draco grown so powerful that his little devil wouldn't be affected by so strong a discharge?

Karnar's mind was blind drunk, overjoyed as he was by his master's kindness. How lucky he was! None of his brothers had had a master this great! But it was true that none of them had been a wizarding demonist. These were so rare, almost a legend of their own. Drenched in magic since their youngest age, the powers of shadows grew in their bodies, restrained by the proximity of wizard magic. Energy raged, rebelled, rose till it became so strong that it exploded, destroying everything in their way. But his master hadn't; his master had stopped and controlled his fit.

The fit, when every potential demonist became what he had yearned to be. It generally marked the possession of the demonist's first demon, for the power the fit released opened a gate toward the Second World. But his master hadn't; his master had already tamed two demons before his crisis.

Demonists sometimes died when invoking their first demon, when attempting to defy and conquer him. They rarely survived the different magic inside of them, both thirsting for release. But his master had; his master had fought him, strove against the dark magic in his veins and tricked Death. And Hath'Gack saw Death smiling above their heads, amused at having a worthy opponent.

Wizards were funny to play with, but they couldn't see Her, couldn't differentiate Her attacks from lamentable human plots. Demonists could, and demonists had felt Her miss. All around the seven worlds, they were waiting for the results of Her bet with Fate. Fate had foreseen that the boy was to survive, was to rise and to battle. Death didn't care and regaled. This demonist that trained backwards intrigued her. She observed him searching for ways to avoid Her and pondered what was going on in his head. But Mind had refused to illuminate Her.

The ancient spirit, too, looked at the child with curiosity, but for different reasons. Hath'Gack opined He had plans for his master if the latter succeeded in keeping the spirits' attention on himself long enough. Mind contented himself with watching; he never emitted any opinion, but Hath'Gack was confident that the spirit was no enemy of his master. On the contrary.

What bothered Hath'Gack though, was the fact that he couldn't warn his master of the attention he was getting. The demonist had felt Death and heard of Fate but had no idea that They weren't the only ones with an eye on him. But Mind was a secret spirit; He enjoyed his independence and wouldn't agree with a demon revealing His interest in a demonist's existence. Only Hath'Gack's very nature of shadow had allowed him to be brought in the confidence, but very few shared this quality and all would keep quiet. If he didn't want to endanger his master, he would have to imitate them.

However, the immediate danger still came from Death. She was curious on the demonist's physical limits and was no doubt responsible for the strange feeling that hadn't left his master for days. What had She planned? What form would take Her next move? Using Riddle had resulted in Her defeat; She would use a more efficient way this time…

From his shadowing state, Hath'Gack looked at his young master. Draco Malfoy. The boy hadn't a tenth of his age, yet he had brought him down in a will battle. Hath'Gack had assaulted the boy fiercely, trying to get a hold on the human's mind, and had eventually triumphed, only to encounter a wall of repressed feeling. Death, pain, hatred, lust and this desire to destroy. How long had this boy resisted the demonist ascendancy? How long had he deferred his fit? And there Hath'Gack had made a mistake: thinking it would render the human insane, he had opened a rift in this so-tightly guarded area of darkness. He had unleashed the demonist.

The strength of the spell that his master had used on him had torn part of the human's arm away. The force of will he had released had broken Hath'Gack. Still, his current situation had been worth his subjugation. He served a master he respected and that respected him in return. Moreover, the human was eager to learn, and Hath'Gack had a lot to teach.

Draco Malfoy was part of a few. After his battle for his second demon, he had resisted his own feelings one more month and even then, the respect and love he had held for the present people had prevented him from unshackling his darkness. And when that would happen…

Karnar sighed disappointedly when his master told him it was time to rest. He was having fun here! There was his master that gave him hugs and made tickling fights, the werewolf that read him stories of big great monsters that ate humans, the alchemist that created and blew up potions with funny colours, and the old man with his beard which offered him sticky sweets. He just missed the other spirit, the one that had served his master. But the human had been eaten by a thread! His master had tried explaining it to him, but Karnar hadn't understood much. He had said something like 'materialising'… It meant 'to make material' which meant 'to transform so that it can be touched'. But it didn't make sense: they could already touch Tom! Why would there be need of transforming him?

Anyway, he didn't want to go! He wanted to stay and play! Or his master come with him so they could play together in the devils' land. He hoped they would soon go there. He hankered so much after showing his master the place he lived in when he wasn't with him. He wished to present his family. His father had narrated many stories about how there had been a wizarding demonist long ago that had reigned over the big human city of the burning steppes; and all his brothers were jealous that he had been chosen by one of them. Karnar was very proud, and he had taken the oath to become strong enough for his master.

He had been hit by a thunderbolt today; he had been rash to seek talking with a storm he had never met and had revealed not to be a demon at all… But he had learnt his lesson well. He would be more careful next time, and one day he would travel the Worlds with his master and create magnetic storms above his head to protect his sides! He would be the strongest devil ever!

Draco chuckled at his demon's rambling, unaware of the curious gazes they were getting. Students were peering at them inquiringly, wondering what the little devil, usually so silent, could be spouting out at his master with many gestures and a resolute air. When he seemed to be finished, Malfoy pulled him gently on his lap and murmured with a well-meant look: "It is good to have dreams, little one, but you need to be fit if you want to realise them."

Karnar looked at first stricken by the news, then reconciled himself to the evidence, conscious he had been tricked. He gave his master a peck on the cheek, giggled when he received one in response, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Draco got up from his bench, stretched his legs, and headed for the professor's table that had finished dinning and had been talking when their attention had been drawn to the Slytherin table. "Stop smiling smugly old man," stated Draco to the headmaster, "This is my demon and my kisses."

Dumbledore quelled a laugh and also got up, only to disappear away with Draco in a corridor.

o-

They were sitting in the headmaster's office, a light fire cracking in the chimney. Draco had to fight from getting nearer to the fire to the point of getting burnt. The flames were calling to him, and he yearned to take control of them, to feel the embers' ardent bites on his hands. Dumbledore offered him hot cocoa and the warmth the mug generated, clutched in his fingers, kept some of his craving at bay.

"You wanted to talk to me, Draco?" the wizard inquired with gentleness, stirring the boy out of his contemplative mood. He, too, had experienced this straining feeling. Something was to happen soon, and he had no idea what.

"Yes…" The child's voice was no more than a whisper, and Dumbledore wondered one more time how much this boy knew that they ignored, how much he had changed since becoming a demonist, and how much more he would reveal to be. "I resign from Hogwarts."

Dumbledore froze, and his breath got stuck in his chest. He blinked, staring at the boy in front of him. The blue orbs of the boy's eyes were looking unflinchingly at the headmaster, but the reflection they were sending to the old man wasn't his own. In the depths of Draco's pupils, there was an entire world.

And Dumbledore saw in these eyes something that he had never imagined could be present in a child. Too many times had he discerned in young minds the feeling that they already had lived through too much, but in this one, it was different… There was something lacking. The deep and obscure call of his soul for a thing that he missed with a passion. It exceptionally occurred, but on this evening of November, Albus Dumbledore was frightened. Such a yearn, such a longing… How could Draco seem so little affected by this craving inside of his very being?

"But why?" he finally found the strength to ask.

Draco sipped some of his cocoa and sighed. "If, by any mishap, I happen to disappear from school without warning, it will save you from administrative problems. Much is going to happen, and I can't predict the consequences it will have on me…"

"Have you told them yet?" Dumbledore needn't tell names; Draco was well aware of whom he was mentioning.

"No." Draco wouldn't be startled at the very least if the headmaster knew the full extent of his feelings for the two men. The wizard had probably noticed his little masquerade during the masked ball. "I expect to have two more days for that." He didn't add that he wasn't certain he would be granted even these small forty-eight hours.

"You should go to them now," advised Dumbledore.

Draco gazed into space. "I should, but there are things I need to tell you about before it is too late." The office was warm, and he recalled that he never had obtained an answer to an old question he had cropped up. "Is there veritaserum in your candles?" he suddenly asked.

Dumbledore arched his eyebrows with surprise and smiled. "As useful as it could prove to be, there isn't. It is forbidden by law."

Draco smirked. 'So the old lunatic had thought of it…' He had always found it peculiar how people tended to pour out their heart's content in this office… But this wasn't why he was here. Dumbledore had allowed him many liberties these last months. Keeping Salazar's lab, changing his studies' content, going away for a week in the middle of the term, possessing demons, having an affair with his professors… He had gotten away with burning a classroom, groping a teacher, and attacking his headmaster. Draco couldn't afford being so indebted to a wizard. It could get dangerous… Even if said wizard was Dumbledore…

Albus observed the child, deep in thoughts. He understood Draco's dilemma. The boy wasn't frightened of going; he was afraid that, was he to go, he wouldn't be able to come back. It wasn't a matter of physical capacity but of mental capacity: once he tasted of this world he yearned for, would Remus and Severus' love be enough to bring him back? Draco didn't appear in a real mood to talk, and he decided to initiate the conversation: the child still had much on his arms if he planned to reconcile two old enemies this night. "I didn't see you talking with Tom recently. Where has he gone?" he asked casually in order to hide his curiosity. The spirit's evolution had been incredible, and he agreed with Draco on the fact that to put such good will to waste would be a pity.

Draco's pupils flashed back to him. "I sent him away on a mission." And in a sense, it was true. He had to survive… And he would need help… "Is your office protected from earring or spying spells?" he inquired.

Dumbledore nodded. This office was the last place in Hogwarts where he considered he could talk without scanning his neighbour beforehand. He supposed Salazar's lab possessed the same protections, and that explained the time Draco spent in it.

"I will need to talk to the weaselette then, if you agree." The 'private' part was implied.

Albus nodded again but not without screwing his eyes in amusement and asking: "What are you scheming?"

Draco sighed. "I don't know… Nothing special. He's here, and he's a friend, I suppose. I want him happy." 'I want to give him the life he was denied. I want him to feel how good it is to love. I want to save him from his own darkness just as Remus rescued me.'

Dumbledore smiled. A light had erupted in his mind, showing him what the child was imagining. Slytherins, Slytherins… Manipulators to the core…

"Well… Time is passing, and I don't have much…" Draco closed the subject. He coughed softly to affirm his voice and began his tell. "After I attacked you, two weeks ago, I travelled the forest and encountered many people. Some of them were muggles, by your standards. They taught me a lot about the world that I ignored, and it helped me see through my hesitations. They are the reason I defied Voldemort and took the death-eaters out."

Dumbledore interrupted him. Only a handful of sentences and already so many questions. "To our standards?" he repeated with a shock.

"Yes, to YOUR standards. Mine have been modified by this encounter."

"I'm afraid I don't understand…" And it felt very strange to admit it, since it hadn't happened in a while.

Draco had a tense look around the office, scared that they would be spied on despite the prior reassurance. "What am I to you? Am I a wizard?"

Dumbledore frowned. "You're a demonist." It tilted. 'I met family,' Draco had said to Hermione back in the Gryffindor common room. Muggles were non-magical humans and, more generally, non-wizards. Demonists could be classified in this class. Had Draco met demonists? Were there others? Many? But demonists had disappeared from the Earth long ago! They would have been noticed among the wizards!

"And what is a demonist?" Draco insisted nonetheless.

Albus' heart was beating faster. Why had he the sensation that there was a huge secret lying here, under their noses for centuries? "A wizard with demonic powers," he answered quickly, wanting, no, needing the explanation.

"Are you certain?" asked Draco in a low and dark voice. "Demonists and wizards have nothing in common. Why would a demonist be a wizard?"

Dumbledore was struck; his eyes were wide at the news. This story defied every theory on demonist existence! It destroyed everything they had known previously!

Draco went on, fully aware of the upheaval he was creating. "Voldemort wrote to me. He proposed an alliance. He wanted to create an army of demonists and place me at its head. But he won't be able to, because the living demonists won't follow him, and because any other wizard in age of fighting is now unable of becoming a demonist!"

"How…" Dumbledore had to sip some tea not to choke on his words. "How does one become a demonist?"

Draco was almost frantic; flames in the chimney were heating up, licking the mantelpiece, and menacing it of melting down. "You have to live near demons since you are born! To feel the calling of shadows in your blood till it turns demonic! And when you saved me from death, I hadn't chosen demonology over dark magic, but over wizard magic!"

Wind from the calming storm almost blew a window open and silence rushed in the office as they calmed down.

"So you met muggle demonists," told Dumbledore to himself at length, when they both had got their breaths back. It seemed so logical when you heard it. Why would demonists have no wand? Why wouldn't they be able to mount a broom? Because they weren't wizards! But… "Why can't you combine both magic?" he inquired, knowing half of the answer.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Nature laws, it seems. To prevent someone from using every race's tricks maybe. And yes, I met muggle demonists. Actually, I learnt that wizarding demonists are very rare: the nature of wizard magic repulses and disgusts the shadows. It is only because I spent all my days in my grand-grandfather's crypt that I was finally accepted by them…"

"By the way," Dumbledore cut the subject short, a twinkle back in the eyes, "Were you forced to make a demon out of Sirius?"

"No… But not to would have ruined my plan… and my fun…" Draco added. "But this isn't our current matter. If I go away, you will have to take care of professors Snape and Lupin."

Albus sighed. It was true they still hadn't found the one that poisoned Severus, and that alone could get very dangerous. There was an assassin in Hogwarts, someone maybe ready to repeat his criminal attempt. He had almost succeeded once, had well used Severus' moment of inattention, and had gone unpunished. Draco had searched for the people behind this act, but his harsh investigations had led nowhere…

_Flashback _

_Lupin and Snape were immobile, frozen on the bed by his avowal. They didn't move, didn't talk, and didn't blink. Draco had gulped with extreme uneasiness. Maybe he shouldn't have told them? Should he propose to live split in two for the rest of his life? Then things began to hum…_

"_Is that a joke?" Snape asked in a very calm tone._

_Draco flinched and back stepped strategically. "Hem… It isn't." Unfortunately. But how could he explain to humans that he loved the two of them, differently but yet to the point of wanting both in his bed? That he would be desperate should one refuse him his affection? That sex could be an exchange of energy, a show of love, and no big event that bound people together? That demonists were used to bedding their friends for the sheer fun and pleasure of it? That they could have a dozen mates at the same time yet be completely devoted to each? _

_The look of hurt in Lupin's eyes unsettled and upset Draco, making his heart jump. It wasn't supposed to grieve them! Draco let a painful sigh escape his lips. "I won't try to induce you into a relation you don't want; just don't doubt my love for you…"_

_He had left the professors alone in the lab to come to terms with his declaration. There was little that he could do. It was exclusively up to them to decide if they could accept a liaison with someone, knowing this person loved another just as much. However excruciating the result could be, he wouldn't force or lie to them. _

_Leaning against the cold bricks, he sighed again, ignoring the stares he got from his fellow Slytherins. He was tired. Searching for Black had exhausted his reserves. Opening a stable gate toward the Shadow World was no small matter. He had had to search for a place where the wall between the Human and Demon Worlds was thick and would be close enough to the Ministry where Black had been thought dead. That had led his friends and him in wizarding London in which the danger that they would be surprised by the aurors had been great and tiring. In there, the tales of the dark shadows had been more beautiful and incredible. They had told of the large stretches of sand, of the active volcanoes and the deep and magical forests at their bases. It had taken all his energy to concentrate on his task, unmoved by their attracting and tempting stories of demonist's glory._

_Draco caught sight in the common room of the exact person he had wanted to see. Rage and hatred at the memory of Snape falling from poison rushed in his mind, and he rushed to his roommate before he could escape his wrath. Grasping Nott's collar, he dragged the struggling and yelling Slytherin to their common dormitory, chucked him in, and closed the door. _

_Who had attempted to poison __**his**__ potions master? Who had wanted him dead? And who was going to pay for that? Shaking from fear and on the floor, Nott was watching with horrified eyes the shadows and fire sparks that were escaping Draco's sleeves and receded frantically until he bumped into a wall. Draco marched to him, lifted and flattened him brutally on the bricks, but before he could interrogate the wizard…_

"_It's not me!" cried out Theodore, as if knowing the reason for Draco's anger. His eyes were fixed on the flames licking his robes. "I already said everything; it wasn't a death-eater…"_

_Draco knitted his brows. What was that now? "You already said everything?" he repeated, intrigued, pressing shadows on his suspect._

"_Yes," interrupted someone from behind them, "To me." _

_Draco abandoned Nott, who collapsed to the floor, and turned to the voice. Zabini was sitting on his bed, the thin smirk on his lips contradicting the worry in his pupils. "Blaise," he saluted, unsure of what conduct to adopt with his friend, or maybe ex-friend after their last encounter… _

_But the Slytherin didn't seem to mind as he slid from his mattress and advanced on them. He bent on Theodore and snorted when the boy tried to disappear in the wall. Then he turned to Draco. "I had a small discussion with this death-eater. Seems like he wanted to drug you by means of soporific and take you to You-Know-Who. But while he was waiting for the good occasion, he saw another in fiddling with Snape's drink. No way to know who it was…"_

_Both tormentors of Nott observed each other for a split second, each wondering what the other was thinking. Draco knew that Blaise ought to resent him for the attack, and Blaise was aware that Draco ought to suspect him of the poisoning just as he suspected every Hogwarts' resident. But couldn't their friendship be true and their union stand adversity? Frightening Theodore to no end, they grinned broadly and clasped hands. _

"_I'm sorry," admitted Draco with a sad look. He regretted hurting Blaise. The boy was too nice a Slytherin for his own safety. He had tried to help Malfoy and had paid for it. _

_Blaise smiled with amusement. It wasn't common of a Malfoy to excuse. He just would have to use it later against Draco. "I figured you would be, and I forgive you. But don't believe the hour I spent in the infirmary won't cost you a lot." _

_Next to them, Theodore was pondering on whether he could escape unnoticed. Maybe he should ask his mother if he could change school during the year… The dark lord wouldn't like it though: the young Nott's presence assured him a spy in the school. But Parkinson could replace him, right? Still, Theodore hesitated on this step: he wanted to learn what misfortune had befallen his father and the other Azkaban prisoners. He had first believed that the dark lord had rescued him, but his mother had soon crushed his hope: the prisoners had vanished. The dark lord suspected the young Malfoy had something to do with it. But how could Draco have entered Azkaban and taken away thirteen grown men under the aurors' very noses? Yes, he would stay a little longer, till he discovered where Dumbledore's minions had taken his father!_

_Suddenly, he realised the silence in the room and saw Draco and Blaise sniggering at him and advancing menacingly toward him. Oh that was bad… He laughed tensely and cringed. "Well… I'll go now…"_

_Blaise roared with laugher, and Draco laid his hands on Nott's shoulder, clasping him tightly to prevent his escape. Definitely frightened, Theodore took his wand out, only to have it snatched away. "These novice wizards…" drawled Draco, "Can't do anything without their precious piece of wood…"_

_Draco got closer to Nott till their noses were touching. "But he will be a nice boy, won't he?"_

_As Theodore didn't answer, mesmerised and frozen as he was by the darkness at the far depth of the glittering pupils, Blaise joined his roommate and lifted Theodore's chin to meet his look. "Of course he will be, if he doesn't want the next match to have his head as a quaffle…"_

_Distraught, Theodore nodded frenetically, eager to be elsewhere and surrounded by people. At length, they receded and let him go. He ran to the door, nearly stumbled in his hurry, and exited the room, his wand still in Draco's possession. _

_They remained alone in the dormitory and looked long and pensively at the door. Blaise sent a sideways glance to his mate and broke the silence. "Fancy a duel?"_

_End of Flashback_

"Draco," Dumbledore called softly, stirring Draco from his thoughts, "There is another matter we need to discuss…" The boy waited patiently for the old man to explain his worries. "During two months, I felt magical energy escaping from your right hand… wizarding energy. Even when you had become a demonist, it remained. Still, it ceased some weeks ago." He stopped as Draco had turned a curious look on his own hand, observing it with care.

"It was tickling… But I don't know what it was…" said the boy more to himself than his headmaster.

"If you agree…" Dumbledore sighed, "I'd like you to go to Poppy and allow her to take a blood sample. If this energy is linked to what I suspect, it could get dangerous…"

Draco frowned, but before the conversation could further, the Gargoyle had opened…

o-

At each metre he marched, at each step he mounted, he neared the top of the scaffold. He didn't want to go! Why had Moony decided to play jailer and remind him he was to meet Malfoy? Why was his friend deliberately betraying him in such a painful way? Didn't Remus remember that he was leading Sirius toward what would be his life till his body saw fit to die?

Sirius had to admit that he had been surprised by the Slytherin demonist's attitude in the great Hall. Was this Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, spoiled-rotten brat, prince of Slytherin, tormentor of Gryffindors, and his soon-to-be master? Impossible. Draco Malfoy was an arrogant git who cared for nothing and nobody save himself, who destroyed and slew every obstacle on his way to power. Was such a transformation possible, as Remus claimed? No… A god was playing a trick on him! He was still in the Shadow World, growing insane and having nightmares! No… It was Snape! The greasy now-half-death-eater was taking his revenge! He had bewitched the Malfoy heir to act normal for a change. He wanted Sirius to become mad on the whole matter! No… It was Dumbledore! The old man had had enough of the whining child and had presented him with an ultimatum! Yeah, that was it…

In the office, Dumbledore and Malfoy were sitting at the desk, each faced with a mug. Their faces were calm: they had heard the company coming up the stairs. Because, when Remus had come for Sirius, a Gryffindor and an intruder had followed. The Gryffindor was Harry, which Sirius had accepted at his side gratefully. The intruder was Snape, and Padfoot had deeply hoped the man would fall in some secret room of Hogwarts on the way… He hadn't had this luck…

Not even bothering to greet them, Draco sneered: "Ready to meet your fate, Black?"

Sirius glared at the Slytherin's back and missed the slight smile of complicity from Dumbledore to the boy. Prudence warned him to keep his mouth shut from insulting Malfoy. "I hope you've said your good-byes," Draco went on, "A very long time may pass before you come back. They may not be alive anymore to hear what you will then have to tell…"

Sirius blinked. Was that a joke? No, the tone was much too serious. And suddenly, Sirius was afraid. His heart squeezed tight for his future and for that of Harry. What would happen to his godson when he was away? What scheme would Voldemort realise to get rid of him? And who would be there for him? A dark man in the room unwittingly attracted his sight. Remus had narrated the story: this man had saved Harry, sacrificing himself in the process. Getting tortured by Voldemort and his death-eaters for interrupting the ritual at the crucial moment, ruining it definitely, he had barely managed escaping with his life.

Sirius suppressed a sigh and lowered his eyes. Qualm and apprehension filled his mind as he fathomed Harry's protection had never been his to accomplish. The prophecy had no need of him.

"Nothing to add?" asked Draco a last time. "Then go!"

Next to Sirius, a curtain appeared out of thin air, and he stared blankly at it, bad memories rushing forth in his mind. He touched the material with a hand and cringed at the velvety feel of it. How could something be so soft whereas it hid such horrors?

Harry looked with fright at his godfather, never knowing where the truth lied. His only hope was a wink from Draco during potions, the beginning of insurance that the blond Slytherin would cause no hurt.

Sirius grasped a handful of cloth to steady his wavering body. He glanced at his godson a last time, carving the image in his head, then he turned to Snape, his eyes fixed on the teacher's robe, as he couldn't get them to stare at the dark ones of the potions Master. Sirius trembled at the words that formed in his mouth, and he clutched tighter at the material, his resolution faltering. At length…

"Protect him!" he hurled the request at Snape, unable of telling more to his long-time enemy, and walked directly through the veil.

Harry's eyes opened wide, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand when Sirius went through the hanging and disappeared from his view…

Only to reappear by the same place…

Sirius frowned, Harry choked with joy, Dumbledore smiled, Remus chuckled, Severus smirked, and Draco snorted. Black touched his body with wonder, verifying it was still whole, and all turned to the Slytherin child. He was still calmly sipping his chocolate, but a mischievous gleam glittered in his pupils. "It took you long enough, Black…" he drawled, "I was getting desperate to find a hint of good in you…"

The strangeness in this was that the sentence came from Malfoy.

"Well…" Draco deposited his empty cup on the desk where it vanished in a puff of smoke and faced Severus. "Do you consider it was enough?"

Severus pursed his lips in a thoughtful gesture and observed Sirius through screwed eyes. "Almost…" But despite the obvious progress, he wasn't letting Black go away with so little a punishment. "It lacks something though…"

"Of course!" Draco exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Where was my mind?" He took a vial out of a robe pocket, uncorked it, and displayed it to Snape. The man sniffed it, and his eyes shone darkly before he quietly nodded his assent. Satisfied his potion had passed the necessary test, Draco swirled back to Black. "Lie down!" he ordered.

"What?" cried out Sirius, not fully recovered yet from his adventure. "Why?" Everything that came from the young Malfoy was potential danger.

Draco grinned childishly. "Professor," Draco asked Snape, "May you be so kind as to petrificate him, please?"

Snape smirked as he got out his wand. "My pleasure."

Reacting in a dash, Sirius went for his inside pocket, and he remembered too late that Malfoy had taken his wand two weeks ago, claiming a 'servant' had no need of it. He froze, and his numb body hit the floor with a muted bang.

Harry peered at Remus for an answer, but the man shrugged his shoulders, stating his lack of knowledge of the plot. The young Gryffindor knew fairly well that he was much too calm in such a situation, but, after all, Malfoy was on their side… And it was more restful just to observe the action from far away rather than stressing over what the devilish Slytherin would invent. And he would never admit it, especially in front of Sirius, but it was way funnier too…

"Exactly how I wanted you," Draco rejoiced, smirking before taking Sirius' wand out of his own pocket and sitting on Black's immobile body, one leg on each side of him. He dipped the wand's tip in the potion and grinned. "Don't be so tense Black… I could miss my aim and poke your eye. Anyway, there is no need to be afraid; it's only a nice little drawing…"

Draco bent on Sirius and connected the wand with the man's forehead. Applying himself to his work, he drew forms with the tip, dipping the wand in the potion as much as necessary. Then he straightened up and admired his creation.

When he was back at Snape's side, the Potions Master magically liberated their prisoner, and the animagus got up slowly and patted his own forehead, unsure of what to expect. Harry's saucer-like-eyes warned him against the 'nice' nature of the drawing… Then the corner of the boy's mouth twitched, and Harry laughed earnestly. 'Fine, let that be Snape's little revenge for the stories…' thought the boy, 'Malfoy, you're such a git… and a great one at that…'

And Harry was reminded of last year. At the same period, Snape was still in a coma, Malfoy was tormenting his fellows, Remus was suffering from his curse, and Sirius was thought dead. Had someone told him that he would learn to appreciate the Slytherin's humour, he would never have believed him or her.

"What?" inquired Sirius, now really afraid, "What is there? What did he do?"

Remus hid his smile behind his hand; unfortunately, Sirius caught sight of the amusement glittering in the brown eyes and glared at him. "You traitor!" he hissed, "Tell me what's on my head!"

Unseen, Draco blenched imperceptibly. Frowning, he went to the window and silently scanned Hogwarts' grounds. There was something near, something dangerous! His breath got deeper, and his fists clenched hard. Interrupting their fun and anger, every person in the room turned to him, wondering what was befalling them.

'From far away, I hear it, the roar of the dragons flying down their rock mountains, the guttural growl resounding in their throat, the hushes of scalding steam coming out of their nostrils. They tell me an enemy has entered my lands.'

His teeth cringed, and a growl formed in his throat. The fire in the chimney suddenly went wild at the demonist's rage, burst out of the fireplace, and fed its master's energy. Shadows of the room grouped at Draco's feet, an enormous mass of dark. The black mist slithered round the demonist's legs and back, and the skeletal head of a dragon took form in the shade, overhanging Draco's right shoulder. Draco's face was contorted by hatred, ashen from lack of blood, his pitch-dark ebony eyes shining with evil, staring right at a spot in the forest. The misty bones tightened up, clinging together under the pressure of fury, and the tremendous jaw opened, revealing long, sharp, and deadly fangs, letting go a hollow and lugubrious roar escape. The growl resounded gruesomely in the small office, the strength of it vibrating in the walls.

When the echo of the roar extinguished, a macabre silence reigned in the room. The shadows dispersed once again, and the flames faded to blazing embers in the fireplace. Draco's breath calmed down as his wrath abated, and he turned back to face the office.

All were stunned, none daring to utter a sound. In a corner, Remus had withdrawn, tense and terrorised in the corner, the wolf in him sensing the danger spurting from the child. The full moon was the day after, and he couldn't resist the ascendancy of the beast that ordered him to hide in a corner. The wolf was puzzled. Was that the boy that had freed him from his prison? That had run the forest at his side? No, it couldn't be! It wasn't his boy; his was nice and kind! It wasn't him!

Who was this human? Why was he emanating death and a wish to kill? There was no prey in sight! Why was he so angry? Had the wolf done something to upset the human? No! He had been nice! He had killed no one! He was innocent! He didn't want to be locked up! He wouldn't let them confine him in the small cave again! He would fight!

Remus' eyes were wide opened in fear, and his nails clawed at the stone at his back, as his mouth voiced a howl in a silent prayer that a door would open and allow him to escape. He knew he was giving free rein to the wolf, that he ought to resist, but Draco's display of rage had astounded him and terrified the wolf. He saw a potential enemy, a human of great strength that mastered beast language.

Draco sighed with remorse and made his way to the werewolf. At the boy's approach, Remus showed teeth and growled, surprising everyone. What had just happened? What had Draco done and why did it affect Remus so badly?

Draco stopped two feet away from his professor. The werewolf had ceased menacing, but his pupils still sparkled with suspicion and mistrust. Ever so slowly, as not to frighten the werewolf by a sudden move, Draco extended a hand toward Remus' face. The man's eyes were fixedly riveted on the boy's, but Draco was aware that, at each instant, the wolf knew exactly were his hand was; he could feel it. When Draco interrupted his move, his fingers were an inch apart from the werewolf's mouth.

Never letting the boy's sight out of his, Remus cleared the last centimetres and sniffed the offered hand. The smell radiated remnants of offensive magic, but the strongest emanation was of sand and reminded the wolf of what he imagined was desert. Behind, here it was, the delicate scent of cologne mixed with Dracaena and lantana, enriched by a hint of lemon. Remus breathed the smell in, savouring its flavour in his throat, and whined his approval softly. He had forgotten the fond aftertaste of small rodent and the excitation that this essence rose in him whenever he was faced with the boy, natural prey by his odour yet also predator by his powers.

It truly was his boy after all. Satisfied by the examination, the wolf dwindled as his fear vented away, thus allowing Remus to take back the full control. The man straightened up and winced at the look from his friends. "Sorry," he quavered. When they remained standing, mouth gaping, he added "Full moon tomorrow" as an explanation.

Finally, they began reacting. Draco tossed his wand at Sirius, grasped Severus' arm by a hand and Remus' by the other, and retreated to the door.

"Malfoy!" Harry called back, making Draco grumble at the interruption.

"Potter?" he asked, eager to be elsewhere, far away from this place that reminded him of his problems and responsibilities. He had very little time left and intended to spend it in calm.

"Is Sirius free?" the Gryffindor inquired, pleasantly surprised at the outcome of this bad joke.

Draco stared at the blanching man in question and smirked. "He is, but he remains a demon. Thus I suggest he takes care not to cross a demonist." Before any other question could fuse, he ran to the stairs, his professors in tail.

Sirius sighed profoundly and subsided in the neighbouring chair. "He's the Devil…" he murmured.

"And I fear this is only the beginning…" Dumbledore added with a secret smile. It took all his willpower and patience to prevent himself from going for a stroll in future. Fate's intent was getting more patent day after day, and he was eager to see the result. How could someone not be confident considering this team they had?

Sirius being still stunned by the last events, Harry took leave from the headmaster and led his godfather back to Gryffindor tower where all students were probably waiting for his return. The distraction provided by Remus had conveniently made the man forget about the inscription on his forehead, and Harry wondered how his housemates would react at Sirius Black, hero of the war, with 'Mounted by a Slytherin, possessed by another, my life got hot like Hell' written on his face.

o-

In Salazar's lab, Remus and Severus were sitting on the sofa, eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth and silence of the room. Draco was lying on the floor between them and the fireplace, head resting on his crossed arms.

Remus was quietly overjoyed, his heart swelling to rupture. He had often hoped that he could find someone somewhere that would accept him despite his condition, someone that would accept to be mated to and by a werewolf. He had never expected to meet someone stronger that would do the claiming. But he had.

Draco Malfoy, demon master, had decided that the werewolf would be his to tame. And he was said to be very stubborn.

But this was no time for mating. Draco had wished for forty-eight hours, and they had been refused to him. He wouldn't be granted more than a day. Suddenly, his ears twitched, and his head rose up in a dash, his eyes staring intently at the window. The adults interrupted their physical appreciation of the cosy room, wondering if they would have a repetition of the previous hour.

Draco only sighed. 'I feel it calling to me from behind the world barrier. My body yearns for this that it cannot fathom. The hot wind of death on my face, the dark flames of the volcanoes in my hands, the burning sand of the blazing steppes under my bare feet, the scorching rays of sun inside my eyes. Everything here is too cold, and I never have enough of the faint warmth that can transmit the wood fire in the chimney.'

Then he abandoned the window, and his eyes locked with Severus'. The boy got back up, and the adults gasped as he plunged his hand inside his stomach. But, despite the weird and unnatural position, he seemed not to be hurt in any way, and they observed the lithe hand somehow working though the flesh without harming it. Just as soon, the hand was out and the belly once again full and covered by robes. Draco covered the step that separated him from his professors and handed a pair of small stones to them. They were the size of a hazelnut, radiating a pale and ethereal blue light. When they had each taken one, he slouched on the sofa and grinned in great glee at being once again surrounded by the two people he loved most.

"What is it?" asked Snape at length, expressing Remus' silent thought. The pebbles were oddly captivating, and it was difficult to keep their sights from them. Mild heat reached their fingers, and they had the curious impression of feeling a heart beat in their hands.

"These are parts of my soul," the boy softly answered. "Whatever shall happen, they will help me find you or you find me if a problem occurs…"

It was the first time that Draco voiced his near departure, and the reality of it struck in their faces. They glanced at each other, and this look permitted them to remain strong in their resolution.

Draco went on: "And wherever I shall go, they will make me come back to you."

Yes, the boy would journey, but he would soon return. Only that mattered.

o-

**Tuesday, November the 24****th**

Remus was tense. The day, so brightly begun, had quickly turned stressing. For the second time, he had awoken in Severus' bed, bathed in Draco's warmth. At that instant, he had known the feeling was something he could get used to with joy. It seemed like his life was taking an all-new turn, and the family he had long missed finally was offered to him. Morning had passed, and then lunch, and afternoon came. Draco hadn't come in his DADA class. Slightly worried, Remus had patiently waited for the end of his lesson then gone in search of the boy. He had found the child in the lab, occupied in composing letters addressed to diverse people. Glancing at the pile of them, he noticed some known names such as Dumbledore, Narcissa, and Weaselette. Remus smiled at the nickname. He doubted Draco would ever get rid of the bad habit. Knitting his brows, he caught sight of other people's names. Reyan, surely a past friend of Draco. What bothered him was…

He stretched out his arm, picked up a parchment and blenched. "Draco…" he beckoned, "Why are you writing to You-Know-Who?"

Draco raised his head from his letter and looked seriously at his professor. "He wrote to me. It is only natural that I answer."

"He wrote to you?" repeated Remus, appalled. "Why didn't you tell us?" The dark lord never wrote to anyone; why would he feel like inducing conversation with Draco?

The boy smiled to soothe the man. "Because it was no important matter. Besides, I told Dumbledore about it. Do not worry over that, professor. There are no more than inconsequential words in this letter."

Still dubious, Remus let go of the subject and of the parchment, his hand automatically reaching for the cloth sachet that bent from a rope circling his neck, hidden under his robes. He had carefully chosen a safe place to keep Draco's soul and unconsciously knew that Severus bore the same kind of item on his heart.

Sensing the perplexity of the adult, Draco swiftly ended his last letter, signed, and sealed the parchment. He rose from his chair and showed his professor to the bed where they sat. Draco smirked. "Do you remember last year professor? You were trying to lure me into your trap."

Remus smiled, the memory brightening his mind. "Without much success…" he recalled.

"Rome wasn't built in one day," Draco joked, before he realised what he had said, and his face stopped in mid-grin. "Professor, years ago, you said to me you were an only child… Are you certain?"

Remus sighed and averted the young eyes. "I am. I had a twin though. He was taken away when we were attacked by the werewolf..."

"Oh…" Draco winced, "Sorry…"

Remus smiled softly to him. "Don't be, you have no reason, you aren't responsible, and you couldn't know. Moreover, I was too young at the time to remember him. Why do you ask?" His parents had narrated the story to him since the accident. It was one of the reasons why he had preferred to live on his own despite the obvious problem to find work when you were a cursed one.

"I have no idea. Hath'Gack is whispering to me… It doesn't make much sense…" 'Apart that this brother still may be alive and that if he is, I'd better find him before you do and take care of the problem.'

Much too soon, night was falling, and Remus had to go to the Shrieking Shack. Draco handed him the Wolfsbane and headed for the Owlery, promising to join the werewolf when he was finished with entrusting his letters to the birds.

Confident, Remus went through the Whomping Willow, drank the potion, undressed, and felt his body morph without pain. 'Another improvement of the past year', he thought. The only garment on him was the pendant. The wolf smelled Draco's odour and accepted the rope collar.

With patience, he waited for the boy. Half an hour later, apprehension took him. An hour later, nervousness turned into anxiety. Where was Draco? He went to the Willow and, standing up on his hind legs, he attempted to press on the tree knot. Without success, his legs weren't manageable like human hands, and he couldn't twist it enough to reach the opening button.

Despaired, he walked round and round. What was happening outside? Had something befallen Draco? When the stone on his chest began delivering a strong pulse, he panicked. Why was the boy's heart beating full force? Why was the stone getting hotter and hotter each second? Why wasn't he here? What was he doing?

A flash of dolour shot through him, and he cried out. The ache ebbed away, but all he could think about was that Draco was getting hurt. He threw himself at the Willow and screeched all he could, hoping someone would hear. Anybody just let him go out!

Through the stone, he felt a flow of sensations: rage, hatred, fear, love, everything was mixed up together. There was only one thing in the world that could generate such amalgam of emotions: a fight.

Much later, the feelings stopped and his heart along with them. It was calm again. No, it was more than calm; it was complete silence. The idea of it frightened him more than the previous battle. To think that Draco could… No! The boy was fine! He hadn't come because he had been too tired or had met a friend on the way that had required his attention!

Digging a circle in the ground, he didn't wait long for dawn. The night had been the longest of his life. Fighting the dizziness, he slipped on his clothes and rushed outside, only to meet Sirius. Not bothering for an explanation, he ran to the forest, his friend after him.

"Remus!" called the animagus, catching up with the werewolf, "Wait! Where are you going?"

But Remus was concentrating on finding Draco. The stone had stopped radiating energy, and he could only base his supposition on the wolf's instinct. For minutes, they raced through the awakening forest, Remus' alarm rising to dizzying heights.

The sight he was granted didn't pacify his mind. Severus was lying on the floor, drenched in blood, unconscious. The front of his robes had been meticulously burned, revealing his chest, red with opened wounds and dark with scorched flesh. Remus froze in his tracks. He knew of only one spell that could char so precisely and yet so utterly. It was a demonic curse.

End of chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9 : Twist of Fate

**Chapter 9: First battle. Losses.**

Azkaban was a dark place. Conveniently isolated from the rest of the United Kingdom by sea, it was situated on a small island, circled by more wards than any locality had ever been protected with. These formed a perfect ring around the unappealing site, from soil to the top of the roof and, apart from last year and the exception of Sirius Black, evasion had always been unheard of. It would be more inconvenient for its reputation if it would happen again. But aurors were confident that their new protection organisation would prevent any prisoner to break free… and live.

A group of officials apparated to the prison's double gate and were soon granted entrance. The atmosphere of decrepitude, the show of human decay or the smell of death didn't make them flinch. They had been long hardened against every trick of this unnatural scene. How many people had already died in here? How many corpses were already filling the common grave and how many would join them again?

During the last twenty months, thirty-two Death Eaters had been shut away within these walls. Fourteen had escaped, nearly half. The rest were dead. That led to the question: how many were outside? What development had reached the dark lord's army? But this wasn't their current preoccupation. They had another war to take care of. That You-Know-Who was keeping low at the moment was just a risky guess, for he was probably watching them, waiting for the instant their attention was drawn elsewhere to attack.

But Azkaban's history wasn't resumed to the existence of the prison, just as the flow of deceases hadn't begun with its construction. When the wizarding world had decreed it needed a place to keep its enemies at bay, the island hadn't been chosen at random. For one and a half centuries, the Veil in the Ministry - previously called House of Wizards, or shortly, the Centre - had been used to get rid of the demonists, but the population was afraid of it, of its secret. Where did it come from and who had constructed it? They had no idea, just as no one knew what happened to the ones that went inside. Only one person had ever come out: Sirius Black. But the man had no memory of his rescue, except that Draco Malfoy had led the team.

At the time of Azkaban's construction, a council of high lords directed the world. In order to tranquillise the wizards, they had ordered a search for a spot to build their prison. For long years, they had sought the best area, till a fisherman had proposed a location. An island. Its name had been forgotten in the limbo of time, after all its inhabitants had mysteriously disappeared and all life been slaughtered, some dozen of years before.

What had occurred there? What horror could have taken place, that no living being had been spared? Humans had vanished, animals had fallen, and nature had been burnt to the core. Nothing had resisted. Around the island, the sea had started growling and the wind roaring. Elements had attempted to protect the human race. But humanoids have always been reckless.

From Great Britain, fishermen eyed the island, scanning the horizon with fright. When representatives of the official council had asked them to point at it so that they could locate it through the fogs in order to apparate, the fishers had refused and indicated the island with their eyes. If they showed the Devil's lair, he would come slaying their families. "Point the finger at the Devil, and he will gnaw your hand away." This notice was still displayed, almost two hundred years later, in the fisher town's pub.

A squad had finally been decided on and entrusted with visiting the island then coming back with the explanation for the dozens of animal skeletons lying rotten on the floor. The squad had been composed of friends, all members of the militia. Traversing the nearest town of the mainland for a last reconnaissance, the group had been tightly united and determined to destroy the Devil's residence. They had an aura of power, an emanation of certitude that they would vanquish the Evil and that the Good would conquer. They became the first aurors.

When they had laid step on the defeated land, they had been shocked and disgusted by the odour of corroding stones, of mouldering trees, of putrefying corpses, but they had gone on marching nonetheless. The more they had advanced inside the island, the lower their spirits had gotten. The dreariness of the abused landscape, the lugubrious atmosphere of the abandoned town and its faded inhabitants, the funeral cry of the mourning Wind for his protégés, everything in this place had gotten at their nerves. It had been reminding them of the dead ones of their families, these bereavements which they had thought to have come out of.

Their feet had led them toward the centre of the town. They had frozen at the sight. There, carved on the stony ground, was an elaborately engraved pentacle. They had walked to it and observed at greater length the convoluted and perplexing labyrinth. The art of magical invocation had never been part of the wizards' abilities and none of the aurors had been able to decipher the point of the strange engraving. What they had felt, though, was that the bad atmosphere of the place emerged essentially from the inscription.

From that moment, it hadn't taken them long to discover the reason of the 'disappearances'. Slowly, silently, unnoticed, they had been encircled by creatures that would later take the name of dementors. Two of the aurors had fallen that day, and the others had been constrained into beating a retreat. The wizards had needed five more years to discover a way of fighting the creatures. They had been forced into submission then, after the prison's construction, used as guardians. But the wizards never discovered how humans could have been morphed into such foul creatures. This remained a mystery for centuries to come…

Two weeks after Draco's sudden disappearance, aurors went up the dim stairs of Azkaban, walked the length of a corridor, and stopped in front of a door. It was made of thick, dark wood, the kind that let no light pass. Despite the heavy door that separated them from their prisoner, the aurors felt the remnants of past glory emitting from the cell.

At a sign from Dars' head, the door was opened. Sitting at the far end of his cage, the man seemed to be sleeping, head bent over his chest in a position that could only be uncomfortable for his old bones. But the aurors knew better than to concede weaknesses to this wizard. Dars cleared his throat, stirring the man from his half-sleep.

The man blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the bright light of the corridor, which he had been deprived of for days, and looked at them. Still, he was aware that the most of his blurry vision was caused by the virus whose effects he was beginning to feel. He wondered if these walls were the last things that Lucius Malfoy had seen before falling to darkness, or if he had possessed sanity and consciousness one more second, just in time to witness his son breaking through the door and rescuing him. Probably, Lucius had already been too far gone into blackness for the latter to happen.

Was that what would befall him? Would he be left in here till Death decided to come for him? On the other side, could he risk escaping from this place and endangering the Order? He had very few ideas of what had occurred on the outside, for the aurors had let nothing transpire inside the prison, but he suspected the consequences of his arrest had been hectic and stormy. Hogwarts ought to be under control, the Order's known members constantly watched. And what about Harry? He desperately hoped the boy was fine and wouldn't attempt a folly. Having observed the young man for a while now, he was well aware of his wish being ridiculous. The Gryffindor had surely already begun preparing a plan, having forgotten that the spy still was free and could be observing their every move.

The man had suspicions on the traitor's identity. It was even possible that the spy had decided to disclose himself after the aurors' offensive action. But that wasn't the man's current problem. Why was Dars suddenly deciding to pay him a visit? He plunged his eyes deep in those of the now Minister of the Wizarding Forces and saw nothing. Dars smirked.

"I suggest you don't try to aggravate your case or I could decide to let you rot in here."

The man resisted the urge to knit his brows. Hadn't it been the plan? To let him die here from the virus? To definitely get rid of him? What could have taken place that the aurors would have modified their schemes? Dars twitched his head with what looked like a contemptuous smile but, as another auror broke the seal of a parchment, the man noticed the slight tic that agitated Dars' lips, betraying the stress that had invaded the Minister's life these past days. He couldn't reflect on it, though, as his attention was drawn back to the young auror that began to read.

"As decision of the Wizarding Law Parliament, after hearing the testimony of sir Severus Snape, arrested on the 25th of November, and his revelations on sir Draco Malfoy's death on the 24th of November as well as on the role sir Severus Snape played in sir Albus Dumbledore's manipulation to plot against the government, it was judged and approved that sir Albus Dumbledore was but a tool to be used by the Death Eaters. In conclusion, Sir Albus Dumbledore is cleared from all charges that have been held against him." The auror lifted his head from his parchment and folded it back. "You are free, sir."

o-

**Two weeks earlier. Wednesday, November the 25****th****.**

Remus paced the Infirmary corridor in nervous steps. He had tried sitting on the floor but the inactivity of his legs soon had begun weighing him down and he had been forced to get up and resume turning in circles. Still, despite moving, he felt his mind slowly going past the barriers of sanity. He wanted to know what was going on inside! Was that too much to ask?!

He was afraid for Draco, and afraid for Severus. But the first had disappeared and the second was lying unconscious on an Infirmary bed. Remus stopped abruptly as his spirit went fraught and his body shook all over with fright at what was befalling his lover and his friend. He suddenly launched at the door and attempted to twist the handle nervously. But the door didn't move. Frustrated by his lack of success, he ground his teeth, clenched his fists, and kicked the door, then went back to facing it with hatred, as if his ire would be enough to pierce a hole through it.

At the violence shown by his best friend, Sirius got up from his corner and reached Remus, laying a gentle and caring hand on the werewolf's shoulder. As soon as the fingers touched him, Remus shuddered in a spasm and swirled, wrenching his arm away, both hatred and wildness in his gold-glittering eyes. Frightened out of his wits, Sirius blasted his hand away in a dash as if he'd been burnt, staring at his friend in utter shock. The animagus retreated silently to his corner, not daring to make a second move.

Moony observed Padfoot for a second, regretting the outburst that wasn't aimed at the man, and forced his tired mind to calm down before slumping down next to his friend and hiding his face in his folded arms. "I'm sorry," Sirius heard from behind the layers of cloth. "I didn't want to startle you; it's just that I…" The werewolf hadn't the strength to finish his sentence as he raised his head to rest it against the cold bricks of the corridor and massaged his temples.

Black needn't him to finish and, once more, laid a hand on his best friend's arm. "I know," he murmured, "You don't have to apologize."

Despite his obvious Gryffindorish temerity, Sirius remained a Slytherin in blood. He knew to be tactful when it became essential. While the werewolf was trying to show a strong face, Sirius knew that the Marauder was reaching the limit of his endurance. He had witnessed Remus breaking down one time, when the young man had been scared to death that Snape would reveal what he had discovered because of Sirius' foolishness, and the animagus didn't want it to happen again; Moony was a benevolent soul that didn't deserve it.

Remus' eyes were red from his lack of sleep, his hands were shaking with uncertainty and his face was drained from all colour out of fear. Sirius wished he had never assumed that Malfoy was going to be there with the werewolf and that he could have seen some scenes one shouldn't peek at; he wished he had gone nonetheless to the Shrieking Shack, not waiting for dawn to check on his friend. But it was too late. Malfoy had disappeared and Snape was in a disastrous state.

When his eyes had fixed on the unmoving body on the ground, Sirius hadn't at first believed what his sight had disclosed. Yes, he admitted being hard on the Potions Master, and punching him sometimes a little too much than he should have when they were younger, but never had he wanted such harm to come to the man. It had taken this view to make Sirius realise that petty hatreds weren't war matters and that a proper death was nothing compared to the agonising pain of this torture.

What could have damaged him so? Lupin and Black had barely taken a look at Snape's injuries in order to give Poppy pieces of information at what was needed, but even then, they had fathomed the gravity of some gashes. His chest had been scrupulously burned, engraving dark rays of charred flesh on the pale tone of skin, forming a tortuous and commanding drawing. Above this enigmatic maze had still been pouring rivulets of blood whose pearls showed the remnants of another labyrinth. The whole of it looked like the rest of a ritual's victim and Sirius would have thought Snape dead hadn't it been for the man's face clutching in pain.

Remus sighed inwardly. Why couldn't he be let inside? He was the best to understand what had happened! But apart from Poppy, Dumbledore and the official whose presence he had been forced to accept, no one had been accepted in. Due to the breakfast hour, the news of Snape's attack had quickly spread among the students, all of which had been sent back to their common rooms. Two killing attempts in so little time had prevented Dumbledore from refusing access to the investigating aurors. Remus was resisting, with difficulty, the urge to destroy the door, to launch at the Potions Master and shake him awake, despite the wounds that marked the man's body. Feeling the worry gush once more in his chest, he lifted his hand to his mouth and bit his wrist, pulling out a surprised and horrified shout out of Sirius.

"Hey! Don't mutilate yourself over Snape!" Black cried out, grasping Remus' arm brusquely, preventing more harm to come to it, "He's not worth it…" he added without much conviction, careful of the reaction that his stressed friend may have.

But Remus was exhausted. He needed a way to vent his tension or he would truly become destructive, and that, after a full moon and with all the problems they already had, was the worse thing that could occur to them. His mind got blurry with tiredness, and he inwardly wondered if Dumbledore had been truthful when he had asserted destroying the Time-Turner. Moony admitted that using the thing could be very dangerous, yet the idea of relying on this piece of metal to avoid this Hell he was getting through seemed just like the right thing to do at this moment. He sighed at the knowledge of his own wrong. He had no idea of the place Draco could be and if the wizarding laws of Time applied there. To misuse the Time-Turner could get them into an even tighter situation, and they needn't that on top of all the rest. Remus blasted up and resumed his marching in the corridor. "Everything was too perfect!" he snarled with fury at the ceiling, "I was too happy for it to last!" He stopped suddenly, remembering there were people with them in the corridor. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in particular.

The couple had arrived shortly after they had come back from the forest and Dumbledore had closed himself inside the Infirmary. Lucius had looked even more murderous than Lupin and all had drawn aside to let him pass. Once more, Narcissa had been needed to calm her husband. They were sitting with McGonagall and the high lord was forced to watch the two women discussing the events when he would have preferred taking action. Sirius pondered if they shouldn't allow him to do so: they all would gain answers but only Malfoy would have problems… and he'd be rejoicing in his corner… Because, for as redeemed as Malfoy appeared to be, helping them with the war and all, that didn't excuse the share of horrors he had committed.

Remus' thoughts were disturbed as the Infirmary door opened and Dars came out. 'Dars? What is he doing here? He wasn't there when they closed the door!' If the Mediwizard auror had called for reinforcement, it was worse than they all had thought. His heart clutched tight, and he instinctively reached the bag that contained Draco's soul through his clothes. The throbbing had stopped but Remus could still feel faint warmth coming out, and that was enough to maintain his hope that Draco was alive. The boy just couldn't be dead. He couldn't.

Dars locked eyes with him and Remus shivered at the cryptic satisfaction there was in the black pupils. But his attention was drawn elsewhere when he caught sight of Dumbledore exiting the place, followed by an auror.

Minerva approached the headmaster, not necessitating words to formulate her question. She had lived long enough with Albus that they were starting to initiate a spirit bonding out of sheer friendship. None of them minded. Since Albus' wife had died a century ago, leaving him young widower with no heir, and since Minerva's commitment to this school and its students, they had felt no need of indulging in romance with others. They had no family or mate ties and both of them were aware that they had no chance at ever finding someone else to love; they were happy with their friendship and the way it was developing. And were they to know, their connections would certainly show no reluctance at letting Nature make her work.

When the Headmaster had pleasant news to announce, he usually smiled and tutted; and when the information was neutral, he generally waited for silence. Dumbledore cleared his throat and instantly, the present people knew that was bad. "They found two different people's blood on Severus. One is his, and the other appears to be Draco's."

Remus' lips opened in a silent and horrified surprise and Albus went on.

"His chest was marked with a scorched demonic pentacle which we weren't able to decipher. Mediwizard Jackleccy and Poppy are still working on it but all they know yet is that it steals Severus' life. The second pentacle was made of blood and they have no idea of its use."

After a moment of silent, Dars intervened. "You forgot to report that my field team found the remnants of a charred corpse next to him, and two buttons of a Hogwarts student's uniform."

Narcissa gasped and her face tightened in sadness, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "You… You mean that…"

"That your son is dead, Mrs Malfoy. I am sorry." The words and almost gentle tone of voice sounded strange and out of place coming from Dars' mouth. The very little they all had seen of this man had shown only his anger and hatred.

Narcissa erupted in tears and Sirius peered at her with stupefaction and some hesitation. He had known his cousin to be a resistant mind, made from the very core of Slytherin, but he had also been aware that her son had been everything to her; and strangely, he felt sorry for this woman. Despite their resent for each other, she had gone past her grudge and given him back his liberty and innocence. He walked to her and framed her shoulders with his arm. Surprised by the action, she cried all the more and hid her face in his chest.

Lucius was white with anger and hurt as he tore his sight away from his broken wife and looked at Dars, forcing his mind to forget about his painful heart. "Surely you won't let this crime go unpunished?" By Merlin, he was ready to kill Snape himself given the chance!

But Dars' pupils turned deadly dangerous when they fell back on the high lord. "You are in no place to ask for revenge, Malfoy. For the sake of justice and those dear to your son, though, we will take measures. Severus Snape is under arrest. In some minutes, he will be taken to Saint Mungo and placed in watched treatment."

"What?" Remus exclaimed abruptly. "But you can't! He is wounded!"

"He is guilty of murder!" Dars hissed.

"Whose?" Lupin retorted intensely, "He couldn't have killed Draco! He loved him!"

Unexpectedly, Dars smirked and Moony immediately regretted his words, realising straightaway the impact they could have. "Then we now have the motive…" Dars drawled, "Thank you Lupin."

Remus was blank from his error. He glanced inside the Infirmary and caught a glimpse of Snape, lying on the sheets, totally unaware of the battle that was going on next to him. "You can't arrest him," he almost pleaded, "He's innocent."

Dars' pupils turned dark once more and he took his wand out only to point it at Lupin. "He is guilty and he will be taken to Saint Mungo then Azkaban, whether you accept it or not. Don't try to stop us, Remus, or I may decide to arrest you too. I have a very good reason to do so, and you know it."

All eyes jumped at the use of Lupin's first name. What did that mean? Did they know each other?

Remus flinched at the feeling of a wand against his throat but kept their eyes locked. "Then go on with it," he whispered. He had already condemned Severus to Azkaban, it would only be fair that he accompany him. Knowing that the aurors knew about Moony's relationship with Draco, the fact that Severus had loved the boy provided them with the perfect motive: jealousy. To try explaining that Draco had loved them both equally wouldn't change Remus' last revelation: the aurors simply would affirm that Severus had gotten impatient and possessive. He had attacked Draco, the boy had fought back, and had died in the process. Even if that seemed incredibly dense a thing to accuse Severus of from Remus' point of view; Snape would rather have killed his colleague and consoled Draco in his mourning than ever trying to talk to the boy about it…

Dars clenched his teeth at Remus' answer and his knuckles went white from the added pressure of his hand. At length, the contortions of his face disappeared. He sighed, took the wand away and pocketed it back. "Stop your nonsense. One less professor is already too much to this school."

Remus stared wide-eyed at him. Already too much? 'Then you know he is innocent from this murder… You know it wasn't Severus that hurt Draco… Because Draco is alive, I know it. I would have felt it if he was dead. Yet if I say something more, you will arrest me for having a relationship with an under-aged student… And how you know all of that, I have no idea…'

Remus lowered his sight. "Yes, I'm sorry." His heart clutched at the thought that he was abandoning Severus. What would Draco think of him if he knew? He would probably be disgusted by such behaviour. No, his mind suddenly brightened, no, Draco wouldn't think that. He would tell that he was better off free, trying to help from the outside. And Moony would do just that: he would work to get Severus out and wouldn't stop till he had succeeded.

"I prefer that. We will be going now." Dars went back in the Infirmary and asked for a Portkey.

Changing his mind, Remus suddenly ran after him. "Wait! What will you do with his things?"

Dars turned to him anew. "His things?" he repeated incredulously. "They will be catalogued and stored, why?"

Remus sighed in relief. "He has something that was very de…" His voice got stuck in his throat as his sight had surreptitiously moved toward Severus. The man was breathing slowly, his chest protected by bandages. But around his neck, there was nothing. 'Where is Draco's soul? Hadn't Severus kept it here? He should have had it: the bulge underneath his shirt could only be that!' "Nothing," he stuttered. "I just wondered." Had the aurors taken it away? Did they realise what this stone really is? If Remus asked for it so obviously, he risked drawing the aurors' attention toward it and destroy Severus' only link to Draco. And that Remus couldn't do.

Dars had a suspicious look for Remus, but the presence of so many people prevented him from investigating further. This could wait when they would be alone. Under his supervision, Snape was levitated and portkeyed away and all that remained of him was a shape on the mattress and a mould in the pillow.

Moony sadly eyed Dars as the man grasped a handful of Flow Powder and cast it in the fireplace. Surprised, Remus stared wide-eyed when the man tersely backed and another auror stepped in the Infirmary. From the frown that hooked Dars' eyebrows, Remus fathomed he hadn't been waiting for the official either. The newcomer stood to attention faultlessly then handed over a rolled and sealed parchment. From just the sight of this paper, from only seeing it here, in this place, in this already tense moment, Remus knew it brought bad news and another disaster.

The surprised look in Dars' eyes as the man skimmed through it was more than revealing. It was frightening. This man had come to conduct an arrest. Who could step in now, when it was done, and what order could have been given that even Jonathan Dars, auror captain, would be stunned? Dars cringed surreptitiously and coughed softly to affirm his voice before actually tearing his eyes from the parchment and facing the auror. "This was given to you in person?"

The auror nodded, "Yes, sir. Not two minutes ago."

Dars hesitated a heartbeat before turning round. He flinched when noticing Remus had been looking at him all along and simply hadn't gone, then his expression was dark and closed again and his eyes stopped disclosing any of his feelings. Dars passed Remus and went back in the corridor, ordering the young official to follow him. There, all had been waiting for Moony to go out, whether because they hadn't dared enter the room or had wanted to allow their friend the privacy of his conversation.

Narcissa was weeping at her husband's side, just as he was raising a sumptuously embroidered silken handkerchief to her face and skimming it under her watery eyes in a tender gesture. The high lord looked tired, as shadows and wrinkles had aged him ten years in a few minutes. Some meters away, Sirius was giving them stealthy glances from time to time, and Remus' still sharp wolf senses detected a tinge of rancour and envy in Padfoot's look. Moony was hurt at that. No wonder Sirius craved for some company after all his years of loneliness. And the man certainly deserved it.

Remus let his ideas flow away and observed the scene before him. Time seemed to have lost all power on the two men as they faced each other. The old man and the auror had their respective eyes plunged in each other's and were remaining silent, as if sharing a mental conversation. And Moony couldn't understand why, but he was terrorised by that stillness. He was all the more thankful to Mrs McGonagall when she broke the raging calm.

"Albus," she called hesitantly, not knowing what to ask.

Dumbledore and Dars both glimpsed at her before their eyes locked again. They sighed in unison and that sound was enough to make the Malfoys and Sirius turn toward them.

"Malfoy, Madam," Dars addressed Narcissa and her husband, "You should go back home and get some rest. I will inform you of the inquest's progress personally. Mr Black," he swirled to Sirius, "Since you have no role in the school, I am in the obligation to ask you to leave Hogwarts' grounds."

With obvious reluctance, mostly from Sirius, and Dumbledore's insistence that they all collaborate, the three of them departed for Malfoy Manor.

"Madam McGonagall, from now on and till other measures have been taken, you will take the place of headmistress. I'll make sure you're sent Transfiguration and Potions' teachers by tomorrow morning."

A look of incomprehension crossed her face, and Remus bent his face. Deep inside of him, he had known where they were heading from the moment the missive had arrived. He had been aware that the aurors wouldn't stop with Severus' arrest, that they would want more than an ex-Death Eater. Lucius was very lucky that he had been allowed his freedom for some more time, but not many days would pass before he'd surely receive a disagreeable visit and a one-way ticket to Azkaban. War had begun.

"You… You can't be…" Minerva stuttered, unsure of her words, her hands rising to cover her mouth in astonishment.

But Dars cut off her speech and gripped Dumbledore's arm. "Let's go." Albus nodded. "I'll send an auror squad to take watches on the school's ground. Curfew is at nine. No one is to go out without authorisation from me. I trust you to take care these rules are followed. Else, I will have to use less pleasant procedures."

It was in complete shock that Minerva observed the two men portkeying away. When she remained alone with Moony, her voice broke. "Remus, could you go and inform the staff that we have a meeting in my classroom, please? After that, I would like us to talk."

o-

Narcissa stood firmly in the major living room of Malfoy Manor, her eyes cold and set. Warily, she took out her wand and cast privacy spells around the three of them. Lucius was blanch and shuffled along to an armchair, staring with an interested eye at the dresser in a corner, then settling his sight on the chimney, deciding he hadn't the strength to move and get a tonic drink. Besides, mirroring Sirius who had helped himself to another of the stuffed chairs and was now watching his cousin, he was pretty interested in his wife.

The woman, born Black, married Malfoy, certainly had proven worthy of both family names over the years. To witness her breaking down so in the school had been surprising in the least, heart-clenching in the worst. Lucius wasn't used to such fragility coming from her. And now, no sooner were they back, that she reversed to her old-self. He was disconcerted. He scanned the living room and, as in a reflex, his sight fell over the grandfather clock, and he froze. His hair bristled on his skull and little tingling warned him hackles were rising on his forearms. To hear the fact at the school had been painful, but the hard reality of it being plainly exposed for him to see was simply unbearable.

In front of him, Draco's hand had gone past 'mortal peril'. He raised his arm and clutched tight at his shirt, just above his heart. His eyes were set on the unmoving hand, but his sight was slowly vanishing, dark spots hampering his vision. Dolour climbed up in his bones, and he shook, his mouth slightly opened to let out throbbing pants of breath. Vaguely, he heard someone calling his name in the blur of his mind, before he fainted.

o-

The young man couldn't find the strength to open his eyes; the sun was bright above him, its rays of light piercing through his eyelids, hurting his pupils. He was lying on his back, the full of his damaged front exposed to the scorching sun. At length, he felt warm, so warm in this strange world of heat; and somehow, the insistent pulses of hotness left him unsatisfied, needing far more than a lingering and heady touch. His body was bursting with the residual magic of his fight, aching to flow out.

Faintly, he moved his right hand and groped the ground under him. His fingers easily grasped a handful of the soil, and his body jumped, his breath got struck in his throat as a gush of energy darted his senses. The thin grains of sand were softly raping his sensitive skin, awakening each of his nerves. This feeling, he couldn't describe it, so intense were the sensations coursing his veins in sizzles. A thousand sparks of energy suddenly went flying inside of him, as thunder cracking through him and he moaned.

As if prompted by desire more intense than he had ever felt, he plunged his left hand in the sand and anchored himself profoundly. His back arched up and he cried out, heat rising to his lower belly. His eyes opened wild and stared right at the sun, defying its superiority, daring him to destroy his sight. His mind was clouded by lust, and his breath harsh. He ground his back against the soil and kicked his shoes away, feeling the burning sand through his socks, willing and ordering the flames to consume his clothes.

Passion exploded in him, and he slithered in the sand, his hands and feet deeply fastened in the ground. He was moaning and groaning and offering his naked body to the gods, to whoever would want of it. His arousal was erected toward the skies, glittering with pearls of life. And suddenly, he felt it: the surge of power crushing him into the soil, enveloping his member, stealing it of its virginal liquid and condition; the sharp and powerful movements of air around him, erupting from the deity, moving the dunes.

He cried out and a bright fire ignited behind his eyes, brighter than that of the sun. His head was tossed back, his hair loosely dunking in the sand; his slithering body was writhing with consuming pleasure as his orgasm ripped through him in waves. Then the ground stopped moving and the presence disappeared, leaving him alone. It took a moment for his head to stop spinning. His breath came out in hoarse and raged muffled sounds, and he at length allowed his back to recede to the soil and his heartbeat to calm down.

His muscles relaxed, and his fingers disentangled from earth. His arms and legs lied apart, and he should have felt vulnerable but his mind and body were at ease. For the first time in his life, he experienced the sensation of regular ripples streaming in his nerves, of contentment pouring through him. He was conscious of his own abilities, of the extent of his powers and their limits. His need for release had been fulfilled.

He was man.

o-

Theodore felt the iron bracelets closing tightly on his wrists, pressing hard in his flesh and bones. He needn't look at them to know that they would leave a mark. Refusing to lower his gaze, which stubbornly reposed on the wall in front of him, he felt the same treatment being inflicted on his ankles as bangles locked them in a deathly grip, restraining his legs from taking any long step.

His heart was beating strongly and quickly in his chest, and his only relief was that no one had appeared to notice yet. Fear constricted his mind, but he would be dead before accepting to show only the tenth of it. It wouldn't be said a Nott had showed weakness in front of aurors. Around him, other Slytherin children were suffering the same, some carrying their head high, some whose eyes were moistening.

If someone had told Theodore a week ago that he would come to miss Dumbledore, he would have laughed at his or her face. But he did now. The old senile had refused to hear about their right ideals on purebloods and muggle-borns, but he wouldn't have allowed a student to be sent to Azkaban. Hell, Theodore didn't even know what to think anymore. Dumbledore was wrong, that was for certain: to mix wizards with muggles had brought nothing good yet and it would never. But did the man being wrong made his enemies right?

This was the question that had been haunting his mind since the appearance of Riddle at Draco's side. Who was right?! What side would create the better world? Who could he trust? Theodore was a Death Eater, but recent developments had proved that even that wasn't definitive after all. Draco had made sure of creating a way out. Nobody that he knew had heard the truth on that incredible potion, but all were aware of its existence and the repercussions it could have. They wanted to ask about it but were afraid that word would get to the dark lord.

He regretted now. He should have talked to Draco and inquired about what interested him. Why had the Malfoy heir defied Voldemort's supremacy? Had he joined the Order? What did he think of muggles and of wizard's survival? Why had he saved the Death Eaters from Azkaban? So many questions that would remain unanswered.

He had never liked Draco much, but the news of his death at the Potions Master's hand was shaking. Hadn't Malfoy been Snape's favourite? Hadn't his demonist powers been a duelling match to the dark arts' user? This was too strange to be left unexplored, but Theodore suspected that he wouldn't discover much while locked in a damp cell of the prison.

He scanned the common room. Slytherin children were packed in a corner and called in alphabetical order, one after the other. It was the young Vozel's turn. The third year took some steps forward and, aurors' wands pointed at her head, she raised her sleeves with shaking hands. Her arms were clean. Theodore observed her being sent back to her dormitory. The poor girl was trembling with residual fear at the feeling of those wands on her. How could people that represented justice be so sick that they would treat innocents like animals?

A sparkle glinted in his eyes, and his breath remained jammed in his throat at the memory. He remembered his fourth year, after the Triwizard Tournament, when Potter reappeared, a corpse next to him. No… Theodore shook his head violently, liberating it from his doubts. Diggory had surely defied the Dark Lord! That's why he'd been killed! The Dark Lord was right, and the Death Eaters were purifying the wizarding blood.

Noise caught his attention before his thoughts could go further into places he'd preferably avoid. Focusing his sight on the sound's origin, he stared wide-eyed at the scene. No… What was that crap now? Theodore was certain he had known every Death Eater in Hogwarts. Ending with Parkinson, they had all been arrested. There had been none left. But then…

Theodore looked hard at this arm that displayed the dark mark while aurors took care of the student's wrists and ankles. Zabini glanced at Nott and, as much as his bounds authorised, an amused gleam in the eye, displayed playfully the dark mark to Theodore, causing Nott to gape. Blaise smirked at his roommate's astonishment. Angry to have been one down to Zabini, Theodore glared at the other Slytherin.

So Blaise had been a Death Eater from the beginning… How had that bastard dared come to him and pump for information on Snape's poisoning from the Death Eater clan when he had been one of them?! When had he been initiated? And Theodore was beginning to grasp the truth… Zabini had been here on the dark lord's order, spying on Draco, making a friend of the Malfoy heir, coming into his favour by acting anti-Death Eater and pro-Snape! He had watched his fellows to make sure that none of the dark lord's minions would take a step away!

For as loyal as Theodore was to Voldemort, he couldn't help feeling betrayed by such an attitude. Didn't his master have faith in them? Apparently not.

Surrounded by aurors, the Death Eaters were taken out of their common room. Using their rounding up again, Theodore managed to come shoulder to shoulder with Zabini and went on shooting sideways glances at the spy. Blaise remained stoic and didn't do so little as to acknowledge the look. Nott clenched his teeth.

'Fine! You want it this way, Zabini? I'll wait till we get to Azkaban then. We'll have plenty of time to talk there. And I'll get my answers even if I have to punch them out of you!' he thought with rancour.

They arrived in the Great Hall where students from the three other houses had been grouped, a thin lane separating them in two packs, leaving a place for the procession to reach the professor table. As they passed among the pack of students, Theodore shivered at the looks they were getting, full of hatred and disgust. He was a stranger to such displays and couldn't help trembling at the thought of what they would do to him if he were left alone with them. Next to him, Blaise was marching, unaware of the stares or uncaring. Murmurs grew in the crowd.

"It's their fault that Dumbledore was arrested," a voice said.

"Yeah, I hope they rot in Azkaban!" another outbid.

"These bastards, they thought they could get away after what they did," a third hissed from another part of the Great Hall.

Zabini was still unmoved by their contained outbursts and, unconsciously, Theodore took a step toward him, searching for the solace of this strength of will. For the first time, Blaise's gaze darted to him and, unseen by Nott, his lips quirked upwards in a soft smile and his head tilted just enough to form a nod. In front of them, the professors were gathered, speaking among themselves, alarmed by what was going on. There had been seven Death Eaters roaming the school without their knowledge! When had that happened?

Professors McGonagall and Lupin were keeping unusually quiet. The cause had to be Dars who stood next to them, Theodore thought. The staff sounded like they were split in two camps: those who had judged the ex-headmaster's looseness and his acceptation of Death Eater children in the school to be unacceptable, and those who probably hadn't appreciated Dumbledore's arrest and its reasons as well as the others… But what attracted Nott's sight was the DADA teacher. Lupin was bearing this inherent look of compassion and patience that made him so appreciated, even by the Slytherins. Except that no Slytherin would ever be caught admitting it and all would prefer treating him like a nobody rather than openly accept or recognise his gentleness. It was these eyes that had charmed Draco, that had brought to him verity and redemption…

Professor Lupin was watching Blaise's arm attentively, on which Theodore knew laid the dark mark, hidden by two layers of clothes. The teacher's thoughts were safely kept secret but when the man raised his sight and exchanged a simple and knowing look with Zabini, Nott immediately fathomed that there was more spirit to the werewolf than kindness.

Theodore's mind was swinging back and forth. There was something in this look that convinced his Slytherin education of a plot. But what should he do with this information? He could sell it to the aurors… He could… He had been certain he could till he felt the pressure of Blaise's shoulder on his own. It contained and transmitted warmth through his body, offering him soul support as the heat slithered his nerves, bringing peace to his mind.

How could he have missed noticing Zabini's strength? Had Theodore been so occupied spying on Malfoy that he had neglected to watch his back and his other roommate? But here the feeling of superiority was, and it refused to be denied. Blaise was strong. And now Nott suspected it hadn't been on friendship only that Draco had accepted each one of Zabini's duels. Maybe Draco had detected that lingering nobleness in his comrade.

While his thoughts had drifted away from the range of living and reality, the aurors had been circling the Death Eaters with large-range portkeys. The devices would allow them to take all the prisoners away in a single trip. Before he knew it, the scenery fogged and, too late to stop it, he felt a sigh of relief escape his throat. Till it stopped, he had been unaware of the stress the constant murmurs of aversion and loathing looks had put on his nerves.

Dars divided their group and spread them in the numerous cells of the prison's political enemies division. A couple of Death Eaters for a cell. But even as Theodore was being pushed in alongside with his cellmate, he realised they were being granted preferential treatment, probably because they weren't even of age. Had they been a little older, he would have found himself alone in this dark hole. Maybe the auror captain had a heart somewhere underneath his hatred and vengeance.

He could see next to nothing of what would be his new room for the time to come, till someone saw fit to come for them and take them out. Some rising moon and star light was traversing a thin slit in the thick wall and stroking the closed door, as in a silent mocking, to show only the closed exit, the one part of the cell that would remain inaccessible.

Once the commotion of his arrest ceased and he was free of the adrenaline, his body painfully realised the cold and the dampness around him. They were in November, in the middle of a raging sea, and the weather made its authority felt. Theodore shivered and rubbed his already cooling forearms. From the faint sound of breathing, he could tell his cellmate had chosen the middle of the place to sit in. Nott choked back a sigh and settled in a corner.

He got back up in a dash, freezing water dripping from the back of his robes. Extending a hand, he hesitantly skimmed a wall. Water was dripping off of it.

"The cold is bearable," a voice raised in the dark, "But you won't last if you get soaked."

His tongue was heavy with the hissed comment that he was no child, that he already knew it; but the show of two hands glowering under the moonlight, offering shelter, was enough to make him bit the retort away. There was no mistaking the voice, but that only display of protection would have been enough for Theodore to recognise his cellmate.

He wavered but a second; the call of cosiness was too tempting. The hands caught him firmly but not painfully at the waist and pulled him on the other child's lap. His head was being lowered to the other one's neck and arms closed around him in a silent order to try sleeping. In any other situation, had they been outside, had the light been brighter, Theodore would have fought the hug and comfort; but they weren't outside, and the cell was darkening as clouds hid the moon.

His eyes started to close and his mind to drift away. And Theodore's brain denied any rational explanation, but he felt safer chained, locked and prisoner at Zabini's side than he had ever experienced at the outside of this frozen hole.

o-

The young man's breath had slowed down. He had no idea at how much time had passed since he first awoke in this desert, but he felt like it was time to move. A sense he had never known he possessed was telling him people were moving in his direction. They might not like discovering a completely naked wizard-born demonist on their lands. Straining his relaxed muscles, he got up. Sand had mixed with his sweat and dried blood and stuck at him like a second skin, and it felt just better than would have the finest cloth. Through half-lidded eyes, he observed the world around him.

There was not much in sight but the vast expanses of desert. The sky was of a darkening blue, still lightened at the West by the setting sun, which sent crimson rays throughout the earth's ceiling. Draco breathed in the delicate perfume of the upcoming night, taking the time to appraise the slightly colder flickers of the air among the hot streams, the smell of beasts running wild and free, the scent of untamed territories.

It felt like it was what he had needed and wanted and had been bloody calling for all his life. This warmth around him, the fragrance of sand in his nostrils and sounds that he couldn't remember having ever heard but that seemed so right to his ears. The quiet whistle of the wind, the slow moving of the dunes, the faraway growls of the dragons, all of it was melody to his mind.

Stretching his legs, he at length took the first step in his new world. Sand massaged the soles of his feet at the motion, and he sighed in contented pleasure.

He was home.

o-

Remus laid a foot carefully on the floor, taking care to lower it slowly so that the noise of crushing leaves wouldn't be loud enough to activate the detection spells. To his own enhanced werewolf senses, it sounded like a mahogany wooden door was being reduced to shreds by a powerful force; still, he was confident that the spells' range wouldn't spot it.

His head was spinning back and forth from the lack of sleep. Moreover, he had taken no potion to ease the residual ache of the transformation and, due to the events of the day, no one had noticed. He had thought he could go without, but the effects were beginning to painfully make themselves felt. His body screamed his need to lie down and rest, but his stubborn mind refused to stand aside. He wanted answers, and he had to have them quickly!

In the afternoon, he had met with Minerva in her office. Despite her new function, she had declined the offer of using the headmaster's office, claiming the room generated bad memories. Deep down, Remus knew she just wanted to keep her faith intact that Dumbledore would come and take back his place. Remus agreed with her; they had to find a way. But as he scanned all the possibilities in his head, the only idea that presented a semblance of possibility of success was talking to Dars and convincing the man. That wouldn't be easy.

Minerva had asked him about Dars' slip of the tongue in the Infirmary corridor, when the auror captain had called the professor by his birth name. As Moony had explained, that had been no mistake on the auror's part. Once had been a time when they had called each other so casually.

After the first war against Voldemort, Remus had gone away, unable to face the reality of what was befalling him, the condolences in the eyes of those he knew. But finding work when you were a werewolf isn't easy. He couldn't stay in a place for more than three or four months before people started noticing his absences and putting the facts together.

A man hadn't been stopped by Remus' nature when he had hired him. Jonathan Dars had been a young auror whose morning habit had been taking care of his six year old daughter, dropping her at primary school then having a coffee and a couple of croissants in the imposing café in front of the auror department. Where Remus had happened to work as part-time waiter.

Their relationship would have stayed there, at the _'What may I get you, sir?'_, the _'A coffee and two croissants please'_, then, with time passing, the _'The usual, please'_, the _'I'll get it now, sir'_, the casual conversation with no real aim or emotion; if there hadn't been that particular day when Fate had decided they needed a change. That sort of big change that completely turns over your life with no chance of ever going back.

Dars had a daughter. Remus knew that much for the school was only one street away from the Auror station and simply everybody knew about her, never missing an occasion to ask news of the girl. But the asking came in low tones, small inquiries, anxious words and that bothered Remus. Why being so secret about a young child? Moony hadn't wanted to appear curious and hadn't inquired about it, but watching the girl's father leaving work and going to pick her up from school each evening provided him with his answer. Who needed more than such a fact that the mother had never appeared or ever been mentioned? That Jonathan bore no alliance but that Remus, in his near full moon days, could hear the tingling of rings under the man's shirt?

_It was in one of those afternoons that a young girl stopped by the café. She looked around for a time, taking in the surroundings and, apparently finding not what she had been seeking, sat wordlessly at a table, tugging her school bag between her legs. Remus observed the two other waiters staring silently at the girl, as they would have if propped by the curiosity to go and talk to her. He smiled at their shyness of a child and opened his mouth to ask if one of them wanted to take the order should there be one. But his words never formed as he noticed the furrow on their foreheads, the crooked setting of their lips, the recalcitrance in their movements. They weren't curious. They were disgusted. _

_Time stopped for a moment as the much too familiar hurtful feeling of dread filled his chest. His breath stuck in his throat as blood drained from his face, and he gripped tight at the back of a chair to prevent collapsing. His chest was heavy with hidden shame at what he was, and the realisation and remembering that these looks would one day be turned toward him. When one of the waiters, the oldest of the two, looked askance at Remus, the werewolf quickly regained his breath and equilibrium and headed for the girl. He knew his time at the café would soon be over. They were growing suspicious of him. And in this still time of post-war, to be in receipt of suspicion was dangerous. _

_After the war, groups of anti-Death Eater terrorists had formed. The fear of the population that Voldemort could have survived, that his servants could bring him back, made the wizards accept politics and actions that bordered on madness. And if they had paused to think, they would have realised that they were acting no better than the muggles at Salem. But they didn't pause, and they didn't think. Families were denounced; wizards were tracked. And in the middle of that, there were some men and women to defend the truth. Among them, a young auror, promised to a great future, despite the spiteful and malicious gossip that some were having on behalf of the man's daughter. _

_Remus straightened the white cloth hanging from his arm and walked to the young girl. Thoughts safely tucked inside his mind, he admired the girl's strength, her impassive pose under the waiters' scrutiny. But as he took the last step, she turned toward him and smiled. _

"_Good evening, sir," she said. Somehow, Remus instantly knew the girl seldom smiled at anyone, and the simple fact that she currently did lightened a little flame in his heart. _

"_Good evening, miss," he replied, an infectious grin marking his lips. "May I get you something?"_

_She laid her elbows on the imitation marble of the table, and her chin on her palms, looking at him while considering the request. "There aren't a lot of customers today, are there?" she asked at last._

"_Excuse me?" He blinked at the strange question then swiftly turned his head, scanning the tables, in case something was happening that he wouldn't have seen. But no, the café was calm. There still was an hour before the flow of regulars would begin flocking in, and it was his evening out tonight. "No," he answered, "But it is normal, given the early hour." He wanted to ask the reason behind the question, but the rules of the house dictated that he shouldn't be curious about the customers' affairs. _

_Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Oh? Then would you have the time to join me? I am in need of company."_

'_That's impossible!' Remus' mind screamed. 'This isn't the sort of conversation a six-years-old could have!' "I… I can't, I have…"_

"_Tell your manager you are taking care of me till my father arrives," she cut him off before he could refuse._

_He looked attentively at her for hesitation, a lie, whatever that would tell him he shouldn't follow the almost order. But there was only certitude in the young eyes, knowledge and power that a child this age shouldn't possess. As controlled by the wise pupils, he did as he had been told and, to his surprise, his boss didn't object._

"_You should quit while it is still time," she said as he sat in front of her, bringing back with him a cup of hot chocolate with wiped cream for the girl, and one of tea for himself. "Next month, they will understand and it will be too late."_

_He should have been frightened by the extent of the implication in her words, but numbness seemed to have taken its toll on him. He could have been told anything at that time, he would have accepted it. _

_They drank in silence, and Remus relished in the peaceful moment, blissfully unaware of the stares and some glares they were both receiving, forgetting for a moment the plague that had been his recent life. Whoever this girl was, and whatever mysterious power she had, she was no enemy. When they were finished, a glance at the grandfather clock told him his shift would end in some minutes._

_The café had been that sort of place created by and for the upper part of the population. Mirrors and burgundy tapestries recovered the walls, falling over pans of richly crafted mahogany wood. Chairs and armchairs were covered with layers of dark red velvet. The place was so designed that sounds from all over the room travelled well, as Remus had learnt after his first nights there. He wasn't certain whether the customers weren't aware that their conversations were being listened to, or if they didn't care. As he had noticed, some rich and pompous people liked being eavesdropped, starting that way many rumours that couldn't lead back to them. That, or they just enjoyed looking at the face of the person they were insulting when the poor bloke heard of the opinion his peers had on him. Whatever it was, he didn't cared… They were part of a world he would never understand… Or have any will to… _

"_I believe you are released from your obligations here for the evening," the girl interrupted his thoughts. "Would you accompany me back home then?"_

_Amazement and fear toward the situation had left Remus, leaving only his mind with a faint sense of strangeness at the whole thing, a sentiment he couldn't quite define but that he recognised like the wolf's assessment of his new acquaintance. The animal was subdued, and his calm soothed Remus into a silent compliance. What power possessed the girl, that a werewolf would feel safe at her side? _

"_Of course," he answered obediently._

In the forest, Remus shook his head against the memories. There was no time for painful thoughts. He had arrived at his destination, the glade were Draco had died. Or was said to have died… Under the layer of his ragged shirt, Remus still felt the vague pounding of a heartbeat and the soft warmth coming from Draco's stoned soul. Draco, his Draco was alive…

On the soil of the ground, a pull of blood had dried, tainting the herbs. Some feet away, there was a vague grey powder, probably what Dars had announced to be… the rest of a body…

Wizards had always been a little afraid of fire, an element that essentially represented demonists and their devastating powers, and even during the darkest of the times never had they turned toward it as a way of war or condemnation. To think that this pile of dust had once been a human… Remus' stomach clenched viciously at the thought.

Then he remembered Severus. The man had been marked by two distinct pentacles of wounds and blood. Despite the very little that he knew about demonic magic, Remus had learnt through Draco's training that it virtually obeyed the same general laws as wizarding magic. That's to say, two uses of the same magical house can only fight one another. A wizard would never use two spells, or two incantations at the same time for their intent would come in contradiction.

Muggle physicians would say that the manifestation of magic utilises different types of energy given the use you make of it. A spell would call for one sort, an incantation for another. Pentacles were all part of the same magical house, or so Remus suspected. Why would Draco have used two on Severus then? Besides, the boy would never have hurt his mentor. That left only one possibility: another had been present in the clearing that night.

While in the Shrieking House, Remus had resented Draco's pain owing to his stone soul. Possessing one, Snape ought to have experienced the same, and since he had been, contrarily to Remus, free of movement, the Potions Master had probably rushed up to help Draco through whatever had been befalling him. And when he had finally joined the young man, he had been caught by it. The enemy. The one who had attacked Draco and marked Snape with a life-stealing pentacle.

Someone or something powerful enough that he had been able to come so close to Hogwarts' lands without being detected by Dumbledore's protections. Someone that had reduced Severus' training of thirty years as dark wizard to nothing. Someone that used fire engraving. A demonist.

During the fight, Draco's anger and hatred had surged like deadly weapons. Abhorrence that had resulted in this heap of scorched flesh. Remus walked the last steps and kneeled, digging the tip of his fingers in the black and white particles. Overcoming his disgust, he raised his hand to his face and sniffed it. A flash of relief washed over him at his inability to identify the scent. Not Draco, and maybe not even human for that was no human smell. Rather that of a wild animal, but what animal held the capacity to draw pentagrams?

He sniffed around for some more time, hoping he could find a clue that the aurors would deliberately have missed… or attempted to destroy… But apart from signs of struggle and battle, there was no indication that one of the fighters had come out of the glade. So where had Draco disappeared? Could he somehow have discovered a flying ability? Even then, would the boy have willingly abandoned Severus when his mentor was so badly wounded? No, if Draco wasn't there, the cause had to be that he had been forced away. Where to? And by what?

Remus grasped a handful of the ashes and shoved it in his pocket. Who knew what use it could have in the future, and what with the new politic of the aurors, it was very probable that such evidence wouldn't remain long at his disposition. He'd better secure it away while he had the time.

o-

Draco walked in the desert, insensible to the cold that had crept up with the dying of the sun. He felt good, he felt so good. What had he been doing all these years? He had been outside his world, lost somewhere he wasn't sure he ever wanted to remember. But here he was. At last, he had come home.

He paused, his feet deeply rooted in the sand. Icy wind was blowing on his naked skin but his body remained warm, fed by the earth's energy, lightened by the two moons. As he observed the silent moving of the silver orbs, a smile twisted his lips and illuminated his face. His muscles contracted as he raised his arms to the sky and screamed, a guttural cry that resounded darkly in the void. He went on and on, never stopping for breath, his scream yelling to the world that he was back where he belonged, ready to take his place and to fight for it. He stopped and listened to his own voice, deepened by the echo. Somewhere in the mountains above, dragons moved and answered. Draco gave a shout of laughter. He knew where he was going.

The dark mass was blocking light from the stars, looking demoniac in the light of night. He walked and walked throughout the night, till under him the thin sand became harsher, rougher, and finally rock. The sun was perking at the horizon and it wouldn't be long before the whole desert had awakened. Despite all his will, his feet remained human and were bleeding from cuts and opened blisters. His breath had become shallower and his eyes red with exhaustion. He needed to sleep if he wanted to last.

Searching the mountain, he found an excavation, just enough for him to enter and not be seen from the outside. Sighing in relief, he kneeled and entered the hole, then lowered his body to the ground and closed his eyes. He had been reckless. In such a world, where relations where based on power, he couldn't afford to be surprised so devoid of energy. He would rest and then only, take measures.

Miles away, at the nearest oasis of this desert, under one of the tents that composed the common housing for the tribes of rural demonists, two youth were filling a canvas bag with millet pancakes, dried cheese and scorpion meat. They went outside and saddled two horses, tying their provisions on their back. Three men joined them and one added two flasks of water on the animals' backs. The young man went back inside and came out again, fixing two short sabres on his large cloth belt, then handed to the young woman a long carved staff that she fastened on her back. Finally, they protected their faces with a long band of fabric that they winded around their head like a turban.

One of the men laid his hands on the youths' shoulders. _"Be prudent,"_ he said, _"I don't want sentinels reporting tomorrow that they found your bodies."_

"_And they won't, father. We know what we're up against. Besides, this is only reconnaissance. We have no intention of engaging an outsider in a fight when he is so near the devils' lands," _answered the young woman.

"_At least till we know for sure that they won't back him,"_ added the young man with a smirk.

The man scowled at him. _"Don't tempt my anger, son, for if anything should befall your sister, I would hold you responsible."_

The young man bowed with respect before mounting his horse bareback. _"I know, father. But I believe she is quite capable of defending herself, particularly against an intruder."_

"Kaalan, when you have lived as long as I do, you will learn that the only persons travelling alone in the desert are the fool and the gods' chosen. Don't make the mistake of judging the intruder wrongly, for he won't give you the chance of a second opinion."

"_I won't father. We will be back as soon as we have information regarding his intentions."_

"_May Death and Sand protect you." _The man looked at his children riding away in the dying night. They were strong, but so impetuous, and for all their knowledge, they had no true idea of what they could encounter. In the last century and a half, Zargül's corridor had remained closed, but the past day, a human had passed through the worlds' barrier. Was it a coincidence, an error of Nature, or the deliberated act of an outside demonist?

"_Irs'shaf,"_ murmured the oasis' lord, knowing the sentinel was hidden in the shadows, listening to his lord's orders, _"Follow them at good distance and don't let them approach him if you feel danger."_

o-

**Thursday, November the 26****th**

When Lucius awoke, early daylight was flowing through the room, enhancing the bright and peaceful colour of the walls. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed no tiny thing whatsoever that could indicate the location of this strange place. All he knew was that they never had any lace bed hangings at the Manor. Narcissa was sleeping soundly in a chair next to the mattress he was resting on and, at the sight of his wife, remembrance of the last events came rushing in his mind, plaguing it with their very existence. He felt himself suddenly wishing he had never awakened.

What could have happened? For all his hatred of Snape, he knew of the man's hidden weakness for his son and if this proximity bothered him, he had never prevented it for it meant extra protection for Draco. Lucius deeply believed Snape wouldn't have attacked Draco, or Draco Severus, without a very good reason. But all these speculations didn't change the fact that his son, his baby boy was dead. That he would never see his too rare smile again, or hear the results of his too many experiments in this bloody lab…

How many of these discoveries would now remain unknown, collecting dust in the closed crypt? Draco had been a boy with many secrets. He had clung to them with more passion than he would have to life. And most of them, he had taken away with him. How had he entered Azkaban? What was the composition of his duplicating potion? What had he discovered in the forest during the week he had been away? How had he managed to decipher his passed great-grandfather's ramblings on demonology? To rescue Black from the Veil? To…

By the way, what had happened to Riddle? Draco had been the only one to see him; maybe the spirit knew something… Did he have an idea of what had occurred? But just as suddenly, Lucius was aware that his mind was only trying to provide distraction, to keep his thoughts away from what would plague his dreams for the rest of his life. Did he want that? Maybe… Maybe he wanted to forget about the last days' events… Or maybe he just wished to drown in his own despair… That made a lot of maybes…

His being completely unaware of the evolving of the world around him, Narcissa had awoken and was looking at him. She coughed slightly and he stood up like a too set spring, his mind frenzied at having been caught daydreaming, unsure of what emotions could have surfaced on his face while he was unguarded. But the room was empty, except for his wife.

"How do you feel?" she asked in a soft and loving tone that she reserved only for her husband and son.

"Truly?" he asked back, his voice slightly raspy from dryness. "I don't know…"

"Lucius," murmured Narcissa, carrying a glass of water and helping the man get up to drink. "I think you need to know..."

"What…" His heart jumped at her weeping tone. He suddenly didn't want to think anymore. What other horror could now befall his family? How many other blows would he have to endure? Wasn't the disappearance of his son, of his pride and joy, enough? He closed his eyes at the burst of feeling in his chest, threatening to take over his breath, and hesitated in giving in to his own angel of death. But the doubt, this horrifying uncertainty, clawed its nails in his mind, and the dolour became unbearable. Even in departing would he have to accept the distressing fact: Draco had forever been taken from him. For his child had been pure of blood, while his own hands were tainted with it, condemning him to an eternity of expiation. An ever after, a perpetuity, a timelessness of solitude, missing the most important figure of his miserable existence. And in his despondency, a gloom descended on him, despair recalling him that in the seventeen years that his angel had been offered to him, never had he found the time, or courage, to tell his son that he loved him.

Lucius choked on unshed tears. How? How could that tragedy have occurred?! Wasn't Hogwarts supposed to be protected? Wasn't Severus supposed to love Draco? Why had Snape attacked his student? What had transpired to transform a lifetime of admiration and love in hatred and war? This couldn't be! He needed to know, to fathom what ignominy had taken place that night! He wouldn't die, wouldn't give in to his heart's frailty before discovering what secret Snape was now the only to keep.

"He sent me a letter just before he disappeared," Narcissa went on, unaware of her husband's mind wandering. "He said adversity was coming and he didn't know what would result from it. He asked…" Her eyes screwed up as she was remembering the words that her son's last letter had carried. "He said: 'Please, be careful and take care of Dad. We haven't spoken in a time, but I love him more than he may think. Do not cry for me, and do not mourn for me because where I go, few full wizards have ever set foot. Whatever comes my way, this will be my reward, to be welcomed by my peers. And whatever my fate shall be, the cogs of my creations shall go on alone, allowing me to live in their memories. Do not forget me, and I shall survive. With my eternal love, Draco.'"

"But …" began Lucius, pupils dilated by the need to keep on with Draco's last wish, "What creations?"

"I have no idea," Narcissa answered tiredly, her eyes asking for their rightful rest now that Lucius was awake, "It could be a potion, it could be some people he helped... But what I am sure of is that never would Severus have harmed Draco. Why would Draco have used a blood pentacle on Severus, if he already had placed on him the life-stealing ideogram?"

Lucius reflected on what he had missed, and his eyes hardened, his breath shortened, his teeth clenched, wrath and fury renewing his body. No, Snape hadn't touched his boy. Another one had been in the forest that night. And that one had gotten rid of the wizard before taking care of the demonist, knowing that Draco wouldn't allow his beloved professor to die, aware that the boy would use energy to save the older man. Snape hadn't been the attacker. He had been the lure.

o-

Despite all his resolve, it was a careful step that Dars took into the Manor, his eyelids slightly bending to protect his eyes from the rush of magical light. Narcissa Malfoy was pacing the grand salon, marking the carpet with resentful steps, rage pouring out of her in dark waves of shadows, proof of the hatred she was feeling at this moment, of the strength the maternal feeling could raise in her. When she caught sight of him, she directed her angry steps toward him and he couldn't help retreating half a meter at the sight.

Hands clutched tightly, her face was white with fury, her pupils outlined with dark excitement, her shoulders tensed by apprehension. She looked ready to kill anybody. In what looked like a desperate attempt to regain some of her composure, she wiped her hands against her robes. When she lifted them again, though, Dars watched with horror the long bloodstains that now marked the material. Coughing to affirm his voice, he bent his head as formal greeting.

"I came as soon as I heard of your call," he said, showing he had received her message.

"And I thank you immensely for that," she said in a soft and tired voice, "I apologize about my state, but the events…"

"There is nothing to apologize for, Mrs Malfoy," he interrupted her, "your state is perfectly understandable given the circumstances. In fact, it is I that should apologize, for the part I played in your son's demise."

He paused a moment, waiting to see if she wanted to make some reproach, abuse that he would have accepted for she had all the rights to blame him for the disastrous events.

"I had heard about his... friendship with Mr Lupin," he just mildly hesitated, "and had I not been blinded by my own feelings, I would have realised the danger he was put in by such an association." And he regretted it. In the name of his hatred and desire of revenge, a child had died because he had failed to imagine the boy's intentions could have been anything but evil. He had had enough proof of Draco Malfoy's true feelings for Remus, a werewolf, yet he had refused the evidence and had persisted in his own opinions.

"For as easy as it would be to put the blame on you," Narcissa sighed, "I simply cannot. You had other matters in mind, and while I also had been aware of the danger, I refused to force him to change dormitories. I thought Severus would protect him…" she stopped, out of breath as tears were once more raising to her eyes.

"You seemed to know a lot about your son, would you mind answering some of my questions?" Dars asked, pretending he hadn't witnessed the weakness, "There are matters that need to be taken care of and, alas, very few people are actually able to tell what your son had in mind these last couple of years."

"Of course, I will do anything that may help you in your enquiries. But I'm making a very rude host; please sit. Would you have a drink? I know it is still early, still I suppose we both could gain some help with it."

"I would deeply appreciate it, in fact. This day will probably be as long as yesterday and I will need all I can to remain standing. Thank you," he said when she handed him a bourbon.

They settled in the armchairs in front of the fire and relaxed some seconds. Jonathan fought the urge to rub his heavy eyes. Here, he may be able to get some answers and to lighten a little the fog that was becoming this affair. How could he have been so stupid? He had thought Draco's relationship with Remus to be suspicious because of the boy's background, the reason being that Malfoys had never looked kindly on impure blood. The young man growing into a demonist had added to his resolution that he was evil, that it was all a plot, but as he could now remember with his head cleared, it had been well known, in the past, that the shadow masters had had very good political relations with other dark creatures. Etherea had mentioned them enough, in her numerous visions. Ah, if only his sweet little child was still there, how life would be simpler, how much relieved he would feel, and how many errors would he have avoided? But Etherea wasn't of this world anymore, and he was left alone to carry the burden of two bereavements.

It was no wonder that Draco's bond with Remus had deepened, isolated as he was in a school of wizards. What bothered Dars, though, was that fact that he cared about a demonist's death. These people were destructive by their powers and murderous by their feelings; demonists and wizards had never hit it off. What would have occurred had the boy remained alive? Wouldn't he have turned into a killer?

"You wanted to ask me some questions, you said?" Narcissa interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, about your son," he virtually shook the doubts from his head and took a moment to organise his mind, "Would you have any idea about why he kept Riddle at his side, even after the spirit tried to kill him?"

As surprised as Narcissa may have been by the extent of his knowledge, she showed nothing of it. "I have an idea, yes, but I never talked to Draco about it, so it may very well be no more than a wrong feeling, but… I think it was out of thanking to Remus."

"In thanking?" Dars repeated, surprised by the suggestion.

"Yes. At the beginning of his sixth year, Draco was depressed and was seriously thinking of joining the Dark Lord in order to liberate his father. But when You-Know-Who did nothing to help them out of Azkaban, Draco decided to act alone. Whatever he did, it took its toll on him. His letters were so sad… I was afraid for him. Every day, I feared Dumbledore would call to tell me they had found him dead in his bed… But one day, his tone changed. He seemed better, more confident. He told me about someone he had met that showed him his father could have been wrong and that, surprisingly, he was glad of it. That someone turned into a source of joy. Only when Dumbledore confronted the Dark Lord did I understand that it was Remus."

She paused and sipped some bourbon, her face pensive and sad. "When Draco awoke some months later, he had only an idea in head: find a potion to counter Remus' lycanthropy. He wanted to help a man who had become a friend. Remus had taken him away from darkness, lulled him, as Draco would say. I think he wanted to do the same with Tom, wished to save him from his own darkness."

She sighed profoundly, fatigue finally taking its toll on her. Her mind was clouded by exhaustion and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and stop breathing. She gasped at the realisation that tears were welling up in her eyes and she fluttered her eyelashes in an attempt to make the moisture go away.

"Mrs Malfoy," Dars interjected, "As much as I'd like to spare you the memory, I need information about your husband."

Silence followed between them and the only left noise in the room was that of the fire's crackling. Narcissa's eyes were on the flames and Dars' on Narcissa, waiting. He wondered what would become of her. A woman from the high society, once coveted by her family, once protected by her marriage, whose son was dead at her friend's hands, whose husband was on the run to a master that had ordered the killing.

"When we came back from Hogwarts, I went to my rooms. I was tired and I thought that, if it couldn't erase the events, sleep could make me forget for a while. Lucius left me alone and went downstairs. 'I will be in my office,' he said." She snorted. "And I was so foolish as to imagine there was an inch of sadness in his voice."

Jonathan could have made a remark, reassure her that all would have been fooled, but he didn't. There was no time left for niceties. War was beginning, and the Light needed all the strength and knowledge it could gather.

"After… I think it was half an hour or so… since my mind couldn't get to rest, I got up. I wanted to propose a walk outside to Lucius. I thought the air would do us good, but when I arrived near his office, I heard him. At first, I believed he had flooed a friend to talk and ease the pain, but them I heard her voice…"

Her intake of breath at the remembrance made Dars get up and walk to her side. He laid a hand on her back, encouraging the confession. "Whose voice?" He insisted when she wouldn't go on.

Her head suddenly whirled and she faced him, the rage and hatred back in her eyes. "My sister! My own sister was there, talking to my husband, rejoicing in Snape getting rid of my son! At how that bastard would be rewarded, and her with him for the help she had provided, and Lucius for the…" she gasped, forcing the words out, "And Lucius for luring Draco out!"

Deep lines wrinkled her face and Dars heard her teeth clench together. "I opened the door and he saw me. He knew he couldn't lie anymore. And I had him there, two feet away from my wand. I had it pointed at him, wishing to blow him up and to make him pay, but that damned vow was there! Do you know how it feels?" She advanced more on Jonathan, if it was possible, till their faces were inches apart. "Do you know how it feels to look at your husband, to know he killed your son, and to have to let him escape because of a twenty-year-old vow that you had made out of cowardice?!"

She turned back, pacing the room, throwing her hands to the sky in madness and unconsumed fury. "He lied to me! He said he wasn't serving the dark lord and I believed him! That bloody bastard! They killed my son! I'd rip him apart with my own hands if I could!"

"That's what I'd like to understand, Mrs Malfoy," Dars insisted in the calmest voice he could manage, "Why is it that you cannot harm your husband?"

She stopped all of a sudden, strength and fervour evaporating. "Because I was afraid… Before she died, my mother had said so much to me about the Malfoy family that I thought Lucius would kill me in my sleep as soon as he had an heir. So I required a promise of him as part of our marriage agreement. We vowed that no magic of us would be able to harm the other in any way. And I couldn't even restrain him from escaping…" A dark laugh shook her shoulders. "How could I misread him so much?"

"Mrs Malfoy, I apologize for being the bearer of so many bad news, but I have very little time, and should warn you it is likely your son's testament will be invalidated."

Narcissa frowned, and this time. "Draco made out a will?" she inquired incredulously.

"Seemingly, Madame. From our source, it was made a month ago. Do you know what could have motivated him into taking such a precaution? Had he received threats maybe?"

"No," she answered, searching into her memories for information, "Not that I know of. But now that you mention it, I remember him telling us he had to meet his solicitor. I thought he simply wanted to inquire about his properties…"

Jonathan heard her voice slowly extinguish as remembrance of the past day came forth once again. He sighed. That woman was such a mystery. Was she completely innocent and a victim of her credulity for her husband's lies, or did she know more than she admitted? It would be strange indeed that, as she claimed, she had noticed none of Lucius' activities, considering how much she had been aware of in Draco's life. Draco who was said to keep his secrets well. Well, Jonathan supposed he could allow her the liberty of the doubt for some more time. He had this matter of the testament to settle first.

"Mrs Malfoy. I suggest that you join your cousin and tell him what happened. It would be better if you do not stay alone for a while. Who knows what are You-Know-Who's plans concerning you?" Whatever side she was on. What remained a certainty though, was that Draco had been You-Know-Who's enemy, and that alone made Dars regret the little attention he had granted the child, and the tragedy that had resulted of it.

"Yes, you're right. And… Maybe you could send someone to search the Manor. I didn't want to believe it at the time, but when I caught Pettigrew roaming the dungeons, he might have been here for another reason than spying."

o-

Draco awoke at the now so familiar feeling of his demons' nearness, that sort of awareness that you had been separated from a part of yourself, and that your heart was getting whole again, that sort of calling that forces you to take a step forward when you catch the sight of your beloved. He stretched his legs and back from their uncomfortable position on the hard rocky ground, and made note to sleep on the sand the next time; then stood up and exited his retreat, taking pleasure in feeling the bright sun over his skin, the warm energy that seeped in his body.

He looked in the distance, where he knew Karnar would soon appear. All he could see was desert, endless expanses of sand but his mind, fed with Hath'Gack's immense knowledge, placed on the unknown lands numerous demonists' roads, the Salin boroughs of Hugilk and Fryedt and, farther away, at the limit of the continent, bordering the Dying Sea, were the ruins of Sihayan, the immortal city.

Draco sighed at the flow of wisdom and allowed his teacher's memories to run free in front of his eyes. Bright as the day they were created, they showed the vast grounds of what had once been the most beautiful sight of the demonic world. A path framed by rocks carved with magical symbols of prosperity, and high flags embroidered by the blue and white city's blazon, led from fair sand to rich grass and jumped over the wildness of the river Nhijihikati, the Present from Nhijihi, the Watery Goddess. The path then guided on a straight course toward the imposing doors of Sihayan. The two pieces of stone had protected the city's entrance for hundreds of years, their one-meter thickness needing the strongest Hayaks to be moved.

For at that time, Demonists, Salins and Hayaks had been allies, before continuous attacks from the Trolls and Orcs; political manipulations, spies and traitors had finally succeeded in breaking through the circle of Sihayan's most trusted, destroying its strength from the inside, growing suspicion and disgust where there had previously been brotherhood.

Demonists became wary of Hayaks that couldn't control their transformation during the two-full moon, a morphing into monsters that left them tired and weak for days after. Hayaks were apprehensive of Salins for their totemic and voodoo art, these innocent statues or dolls that carried undetectable power over living beings. And how could Salins trust Demonists' judgement, when their too short life span prevented them from retaining any history's lesson?

It had been war, and in half a year, a union that had needed decades to develop and centuries to strengthen had been reduced to oblivion by the greatest enemy of intelligent minds: distrust, leaving Sihayan, gem of the demonic world, plagued by fire, blood and death.

The last of the Salins and Hayaks had escaped, gaining refuge, one in the volcanic lands, the other in the jungle; but of Demonists, none had remained but one, immortal shadow of a former greatness: little Hyayin, heir to her father's frozen throne, that had fled through a Veil, to a reality worse than her own: the wizard-dominated first world.

Fifty years later, after wizards had started decimating the demonic population, the then powerful Lady Hyayin had been left no choice but to lead her people through the same Veil that she had used to escape, back to a world which she had yearned never to lay eyes on again.

Riding a domesticated and saddled Soyn, little imp-sized dragonfly-like creature, Karnar jumped in the sand and ran the last steps that separated him from his master. Sighing and beaming in pleasure at seeing Draco safe and strong after his last battle, the devil chuckled at his master's state of undress, and obvious unawareness of it as the human was totally enthralled by whatever Hath'Gack was showing him. Slightly jealous at the complete attention that the other demon was getting, Karnar leapt about around Draco, unable to resist the juvenile curiosity of contemplating the formed body of a man, so much like his father's, mentally comparing it to his own childishly frail one.

He sighed again, allowing his dreams to take him away, and he imagined himself, one day, possessing such a big and strong body. Grinning at the image, he lowered his sight and looked at a part that immediately got his undivided attention. The young devil's eyes rounded in awe, and he held his breath at the package. Glancing around, foolishly verifying no one would witness him, he slightly gaped open his pants and peeked at his own baggage, then gazed openly at Draco's, comparing their sizes. His father always wore pants and Karnar wondered for a moment if 'that' was the reason why the devil had never disrobed in front of his children. It certainly was impressive! Compelled by growing curiosity, the child extended his hand…

To suddenly back away, his cheeks tainted with red as he forced himself to look away. His mother always said it wasn't proper to peek at big people's equipment. He would be spanked if she knew! But Draco was his master; he wasn't any big people. It wasn't the same… Right? The boy shivered in fear at the memory of what punishment his father could inflict when one of his children disobeyed. His body shuddered at the remembrance of an old smack on the bottom that had prickled for days afterwards.

Karnar shrank away from Draco with suspicion. His sight whirled toward the Soyn, and the child wondered if it wouldn't be better to just go back to the holes and hope his master hadn't noticed his coming… No, no, Draco was nice; he would never hit him! Right? Right??

A hand grasped his forearm, and he jolted in fright, his lithe body wavering with fear and shame, afraid of turning and seeing the quelling look he would inevitably find in his master's eyes. Bereft of escape, he could only remain immobile and wait for punishment.

He felt his body being pulled down and before he could realise what was happening to him, the little devil found himself on his master's lap, cradled in his arms. _"What frightened you, Karnar?"_

And the voice was so gentle, so tender, that, overwhelmed by the protective tone and bearing, Karnar nearly admitted his fault outright. _"I'm sorry…"_ he only said, keeping all hunched up, hiding from the misgivings that his master would surely have at his demon's behaviour.

"_What would you be sorry for, my sweet one?"_

The little devil hid his face in the inside of Draco's shoulder and closed his eyes, hoping his master would give up the question and let the matter rest. He promised he wouldn't do it again, if only they just could stop talking about it just now.

Draco was clutching at the boy, and, as one of his hands was rubbing the lithe back, he could feel the harsh beating of the young heart, the fear emanating from his body… _"Did somebody hurt you?"_

Breath stuck in Karnar's throat as he considered answering by the positive. It would be so easy, to tell that a scorpion had passed near him and frightened him, maybe even tried to attack him. Draco would destroy the animal, and none would ever know the truth of the affair. But even as it formed in his mind, the idea appeared so despicable that disgrace rose anew in his heart and his little hands clutched in guilt at Draco's bare body. How could he only imagine tarnishing his master's reputation so?

Devils were supposed to be reliable allies, not deceptive liars. Karnar sighed at his own cowardice. He had sworn his life to his master when Draco had offered him power. He wouldn't back from his engagement. Even at the cost of punishment for his errors, he wanted to be a source of pride for the young man that had adopted him as his own. Karnar exhaled slowly, his breath cooling Draco's skin, and opened his feelings and memories to his master's inquisitive mind.

Faced with the innocent desire of youthful curiosity, Draco wanted to chuckle, but the fears of the shivering child in his arms were all but a laughing matter. His embrace tightened as he allowed himself a smile out of the happiness that Karnar hadn't been harmed.

"_For as severe as his methods could be,"_ the demonist recalled_, "my father never hit me. I don't plan on initiating the process with you. Especially when you don't deserve it."_ 'And as for the other ways he had of insuring my obedience and cooperation, I wouldn't dare use them on you either, for I fear you would grow to have as much mistrust in my views of the world than I have in my dad's.'

Vaguely, some images of his home tugged at the back of his mind, calling for attention, but they were ignored. And even more faintly, some part of his brain screamed at him that his father's face was slowly vanishing away. But Draco didn't hear it, and inexorably, Lucius' existence evanesced, leaving only the dim memory of a man that had once existed; a man he had distrusted: a wizard.

"_Someone's coming,"_ Hath'Gack suddenly warned.

**End of Chapter 9**


	10. Chapter 10 : Waiting

**Author's note: **I remind you that HBP never happened in this fic, therefore a certain people that is mentioned later hasn't disappeared.

**Also, for those who didn't, read the COMPLETE CHAPTER 9: It has been updated two months ago but since I only added pages to the already existing preview, you may not have noticed.**

o-

**Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 10 : Waiting.**

**Thursday, November the 26th **

"What do you think you're doing ?!?!" A strong and raging voice surged up in the Great Hall.

Ginny turned back in a dash, jumping a little at the intensity of the voice that just blasted at her. She sighed as her brain registered its owner, and swirled back to the girl she had been talking to. "You should go," she counselled, "And don't mind him, I'll take care of it."

"Why were you talking to her?!!" Ron screamed, nearly flying the last few meters that separated him from his disobedient sister. "Have you gone mad? The girlfriend of a death-eater! Probably a murderer too ! She just escaped Azkaban because aurors didn't inquire into other houses!"

"Shut up!"

The Gryffindor interrupted his shouting, gasping, speechless at the dare Ginny showed to yell at him. But he soon recovered and his face turned as red as his hair as he prepared for another vocal assault.

But Ginny wouldn't be demounted and before Ron could yell again, he found a wand poking at his nose. Instinctively, he backed down a step, but the wand followed him, coming ahead of a resolute young hand. "You will stop speaking to me in this tone, Ronald Weasley. I am old enough to decide who I can and who I shouldn't speak to," she ranted and raved, her wand eddying in as many brisk moves, "Esther didn't know Zabini is a death-eater, and she isn't one! Got that? She is no death-eater! She was fooled, just like the rest of us! More, she was hurt, which we weren't, so you'll leave her alone and not go bother her with your absurd slandering speech! For my part, I have heard enough of you to last a whole month!"

"Are you quite finished, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny jumped, spinning to meet Mrs McGonagall. "I'm sorry headmaster," she excused, horrified at the show she had been giving the entire Hall but proud of her lack of slip of the tongue when addressing the new headmaster, as strange as it seemed in her mouth.

"As for you, Mr Weasley, you will refrain from voicing out your opinion henceforth. We need to keep this school united, and such scenes are definitely impeding our purpose. Ah!" she suddenly called at a newcomer, "Remus! I was searching for you."

The man frowned, his eyes underlined by dark rings, their corners slightly red at his lack of sleep from the previous night. When going back to his bed, he had desperately hoped to stop the memories that came back and forth, but his past had decided he had been ignored much too long already. It was time to revolt.

_Some years previous to Jonathan's encounter with Remus, when the First War had still been raging, a young muggle was killed in a death-eater raid, leaving a wizard husband and a two-year-old daughter: Etherea Dars. Etherea who, for all the memories she possessed of that horrible night, had witnessed the face of her mother's murderer. Wizarding psychiatrists warned Jonathan that his daughter would grow up psychologically wounded. _

_Indeed, Etherea never was the same, she was silent and much too intelligent for her age. She grew ostracized by children who didn't understand how she could find amusement in a dictionary. By her fourth year, the girl spoke three languages and hold conversations adults would envy. The psychiatrists had been right, yet none of them could have prepared Jonathan for what he discovered about his little angel girl._

_An evening, when father and daughter had been peacefully waiting for the child's time to go to sleep, both reading in front of the warm fire, Etherea's eyes had suddenly gone blank. "Jonathan," a voice had called from her mouth. And the man had jumped, taking in with fright his baby's condition. "Do not fear for your daughter's welfare. Reassemble the aurors and be ready for, tonight, two innocents shall die, the Griffin's Heir shall rise and by the hand of Death, Voldemort shall be destroyed."_

"I am a Oracle," the young girl had explained to Remus, "It is my duty to let Humans hear the words of Fate."

But Remus now knew: Voldemort hadn't been destroyed that night. Death had missed and the dark lord was back. However, Remus also had knowledge that few wizards apprehended. Draco was a demonist and so venerated the three unholy gods: Fate, Mind and Death: gods that wizards feared and yearned to forget in the mists of the past. And a thing demonists all knew, was that there didn't exist worse grudge than that of Death. Voldemort had defied Her, and She wouldn't stop till his soul had been eradicated.

But that wasn't the matter that brought Remus to the Great Hall and seeking Minerva. That morning, he had received an owled missive…

"Remus," the new headmaster whispered as they travelled Hogwarts' corridor, "This morning, I received an owl from Draco's solicitor, asking for my presence as Hogwarts' representative. Did you know he had written a testament, and mentioned Hogwarts in it?"

Moony remained silent, pondering the last revelations. "About the first part, I learnt of it just this morning myself, when I received a similar owl. I didn't know about the school's involvement."

She sighed gloomily. "Fine. I will cancel your classes of tomorrow morning. Hopefully we will learn more then about Draco's secrets."

o-

While Minerva and Remus were musing over their own interrogations, Ginny and Luna were on their way to achieving the mission they had been entrusted with. On their succeed depended the survival of the Light Side, or so Draco had said in his letter.

When Ginny had received the missive from the supposedly dead young man, she had first thought of a joke, but that arrogant and serious tone could only belong to the unbearably captivating Slytherin.

"Weaslette,

If this letter is reaching you, then I'm already gone from this world, or in a comatose state and therefore unable of completing a project I just started. This could be decisive in your battle, and I regret, but have to delegate you with its safety. Keep in mind that something should happen to Potter or Dumbledore that this would probably be your last chance, so be careful with it.

In a place whose location I divulged only to someone I trust, that is not you, I hid an egg, secured to the floor and ceil by two sticky tentacles. They are extremely fragile. You have to DELICATELY peel them from their attaches, then tuck them around the egg and place the whole of it in a WARM and SOFT coffin. It's fundamental that the egg shall not suffer the slightest shock. Go through Hogwarts' barriers and reach Diagon Alley. Wait in front of the pet shop. A contact will join you there and take the relay.

Would you need any of my creations, I left them, to my utter disgust, into the care of the only person I think able of using them intelligently. Never confide about your mission! The traitor is still running free.

Try not to destroy anything,

Malfoy."

Bloody ferret… "The thing is," Luna remarked, "How can we go to London without being noticed?"

"Well…" shrugged Ginny, "We trained for our apparition exam, didn't we?"

Luna observed her friend and smirked. "Indeed."

"We just need the means to get out of the school. Who could he have left his potions to? He says 'the only person I think able of using them intelligently'. That has to be Snape, but after what he did to Malfoy, I doubt he'd help us… if he was in a state to, which he isn't anyway…"

"You truly think Snape attacked Malfoy? That seems strange. I mean: we've all seen the way he treated the ferret. Snape probably loved him more than he did anyone in his life. I rather think this is all a put on and one of the aurors launched the attack. Look at the slapdash work they made in their investigation."

"Maybe... But that doesn't resolve our problem. No, Malfoy feared too much for that egg, and look at all these precautions… He obviously suspected something would happen at Hogwarts. He wouldn't have left them at Snape; he was watched too closely."

"What about Hermione?"

"Hermione?" Ginny repeated incredulously, "But he hated her!"

"Exactly. Reread the letter. He says 'to my utter disgust'. It would fit."

Ginny made a grimace. "Gosh, I hate that ferret and his stupid enigmas. There'd better be something else in that egg that another riddle." (Sorry I couldn't resist the pun)

"I'll try to talk to Esther during lunch and set an hour. You do the same with Hermione and we compare in class," Luna finally planned.

"Yeah… The replacements will be there tomorrow and it will be too late then. We need to go this evening."

o-

"_Someone's coming,"_ Hath'Gack suddenly warned Draco's mind.

Wary, Draco swiftly lifted his head and tried listening to his surroundings, but his human senses weren't keen enough to detect the newcomers and all he heard was the slow rustle of the wind against the dunes. Who could it be? Ally or enemy? Foe probably, for, as Hath'Gack had apprised him of, Draco was the invader from the first-world and bound to be attacked for it. Demonists had been chased out from their houses by the wizards two centuries ago, forced to seek refuge in this hostile place that was the second world, and they would be damned and dead before they let a raider steal away their homes again. It was up to Draco to show them that he was no wizard but a full-souled demonist, and that he would fight as such.

At length realising the Soyn's presence, Draco noticed a bundle of material on the animal's back and glanced at Karnar in a silent question.

"_Mom said you would need them,"_ grinned the little devil, his past grievance all forgotten in face with Draco's obvious indifference at his demon's fault.

"_Great woman,"_ murmured the young man. He grasped the bundle and unfolded it, revealing cloth shoes, baggy pants and shirt and a tunic. _'Hath'Gack,'_ he addressed mentally while dressing, flinching slightly as the shirt fell on his torso's slowly closing wounds. _'Shadow Karnar and the dragonfly. Do you thing they saw him coming?'_

'_Coming, probably, but since we're so near the devils' lands, they may have attributed his presence to him going back home,'_ the shadow demon answered as he was dematerialising the child and his mount.

The devil's heartbeat was quickening, frightened at the danger, but his vibes' colours showed the ineluctable dark attraction of the demon at the possibility of a fight. The battle of the past day had left him eager for each of his master's demonstrations of power. Remembrance of the enemy's shrieks and contortions from the implacable torching curse, of Draco's nimble and chirurgical accuracy in carving the pentacle in his own flesh; the memory of what immeasurable strength had erupted from the demonist's hands and words excited his demon. Hidden in Hath'Gack shadow barrier, he waited for the horse riders, those that thought they could menace his master on devils' lands with impunity.

No time had passed that dull sounds reached Draco's ears and he smiled evilly. Putting on the second of the cloth shoes, he got up and fixed his appearance a last time, before bypassing a rock and facing directly his visitors.

The five demonists, surprised by the sudden meeting, pulled brutally on the reins to stop their mounts. The intruder didn't move, his crystal-clear eyes observing the newcomers with no emotion. Cirgan observed the intruder with mistrust and carefully controlled curiosity. In front of him was only a young man, which had probably not even done his Grounding Ceremony since he was still travelling.

The intruder looked conspicuously more than fifteen so, as this was the average age for the Fit and the Powering Ceremony, probably already possessed and controlled his powers. What sort of powers would that be, however, Cirgan had no way of knowing without a confrontation. After the Powering Ceremony, most demonists went away, travelling the world by themselves or with friends of the same age, their temper progressively defining and their future skills showing, till they finally calmed down, and they chose residence in a city, a mate to love or an equal to marry, initiating the Grounding Ceremony. Cirgan would have thought the young man to be no more than a wandering demonist if there hadn't been the so strong call of portal magic some hours previous. The intruder came from the first world, world from which demonists had been chased out, world from which they'd had no news of in nearly two centuries. But could that really be the lonely traveller that he had noticed from his post in the camp? A near child?

Cirgan dismounted and handed the reins to his right hand, a sturdy man in his twenties, young for his post, but which he would entrust his life to. Uron came from a family of gem-cutters, and that was probably where he had inherited his patience from. One day, he would make a very fine ranger, probably on a high rank, leading the scouts on reconnaissance, ensuring the surviving of their people throughout their migrations.

Still the future was still so far away, when they were so many obstacles they could encounter on their road. Only this morning, they were ridding away from their encampment to meet an asleep and possible adult wizard intruder. But the intruder wasn't a grown-up, and from the little surprise he showed for the desert world, it was likely he was no wizard either. But what bothered Cirgan the most wasn't the nature of the young man in front of him; it was his eyes. These deadly-set grey eyes that were fixated on his own, displaying only calm at being surrounded by five demonists of another tribe. These eyes that hold enough mystery and power to make a commander feel ill at ease.

The silence between Cirgan's faction and the intruder would have lasted much longer if a horse hadn't stamped, breaking the connection. The commander advanced toward the young man while the soldiers dismounted and spilt up to circle the two of them, occupying all of the small passage between the rocs that had lead them to the intruder.

"_You are currently bordering Lord Preulk's lands without outward sign of your tribe. Display your identity and membership." _

The intruder looked back at him with a surprised face. _"If I am only bordering and not trespassing, why is it your interest where I come from?" _

So the intruder spoke their language. He really couldn't be a wizard then, even if he completely ignored the common rules for travelling. _"You appeared yesterday at the border of our lands and have been walking along them for the whole night. For the security of my tribe, I want to know where you come from and what your intentions are."_

Behind him, three of the soldiers were starting to stamp at the time this simple interrogation was taking. The sentinels had been awoken during the night by the scream of this gate-crasher. No one would dare make so much noise in the desert, at the intersection of several tribes' territories, but to cause problems. Surely other factions were already on their ways to discover who had trespassed: they had to be quick if they didn't want to be taken in the rear.

Cirgan hesitated for a second more on the action to take against this stranger, but that was all the time he was willing to lose, and the young man wasn't answering, lost in his own thoughts. Scouts from the Troll tribe had been spotted just days ago much too near the camp to his liking. His faction had already been gone from the camp for hours, and he couldn't afford to let his tribe without protection much longer. On a nearly unnoticeable movement of his head, Uron and another soldier framed the intruder, each laying a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from escaping.

"_Then you will accompany us to the camp where Lord Preulk will decide what to do with you,"_ he finally announced, his voice less firm than he would have wanted. Why was he feeling so out of his league? Why was this one refusing to answer? It was routine check to ask what tribe a demonist was coming from. Except if he had truly fallen from the other world, he maybe had none… At the back of Cirgan's mind, his devil was growing edgy; the demon didn't like the intruder any more than his master. It also was sensing the strangeness displayed in the young man's aura, that sort of mix between strength and darkness that screamed danger to the devil.

Rules would have Cirgan taking the intruder back to the camp, as had said the commander, but in the face of the problem, his instinct was telling him it would be bringing destruction on his tribe. Willing to get rid of the young man, he went to ask his questions to the intruder a last time, but somewhere, a goddess had already had enough of his hesitation…

Draco had been surprised at the demonists' appearance. Clothed from head to toe despite the already hot sun, they didn't look alike the little he knew about Africa's human tribes. But even then, he supposed he could only blame his own ignorance in anything muggle. As he was observing his enemies' appearance, he quickly pondered what could be their strength.

Three of them were impatient, and he gathered they wouldn't be much difficult to take out. The remaining two, however, could cause more problems. The older one was strong and his eyes showed experience, a knowledge that Draco desperately lacked. But the man also looked unsettled by Malfoy's presence and that could count in Draco's favour. The younger soldier, however, was too calm, too concentrated. This was a man aware of his own force; he wouldn't be shaken like his superior. This was the man to kill.

As for their demons, Draco suddenly realised that he had no way of knowing what were their allies. And with this realisation came the comprehension of wizard's weakness against an unknown demonist: the total ignorance of what powers the enemy possessed.

Then the leader's words shook his thoughts. What tribe did he come from? Well, of course, the tribe of… And he met only blank. His mind refused to produce the name of a tribe. Frowning, he tried to remember his parents, but in his memories, there were only two empty spots. Draco looked warily at the soldiers. Could this be the action of one of them? Swiftly, he reached for Karnar's mind, searching in the little devil's memories for answers. But there too, there were holes.

'_Hath'Gack,'_ he mentally called, _'What is happening?'_

'_I am not certain,'_ the demon admitted, _'But this is probably the Mind God tampering with our memories. He must have his own agenda concerning you.' _Hath'Gack didn't mention the worries he had concerning the intentions Mind had for his master.

Draco was shaken by two hands gripping his shoulders and he looked anew at the old man. Who did he think he was to dare arrest him? His eyebrows knitted in anger. _"I am not bothering you. Why are you so interested where I come from?"_ he asked, attempting to stay calm despite the two hands holding him in place.

Cirgan froze at the question. Why was the young one giving them so many problems? Ah, how much he would give at that moment for the wisdom of a shaman_… "Listen, boy. Just give me a name and your destination then we will all go our own way."_

"_Tell them to release me,"_ Draco snarled, _"And I will consider your request."_

"_What…"_ Cirgan was flabbergasted at the youth's dare. He could be no more than a cocky boy, tempting his luck by provoking them. He could be… Or he could be a danger, and then, he needed that name. For against the powerful ones, their name was sometimes the only weapon they had. Opposite to the Second Age, when keeping your name concealed was common among the High Demonists; since the beginning of the Third Age, when Lady Hyayin had led the Exode, it had gotten extremely rare for a name to be ignored. Few demonists were powerful enough that such a secret could be profitable. For when tribes heard of a Secreted, doubt and prevention made them send troops after the one till he relinquished the confidence. On another sign of Cirgan's head, Uron and his fellow soldier receded as their leader lowered a hand and pronounced an incantation, making fire surround Draco's feet and legs.

"_Your name,"_ he insisted, _"Your name and we will let you go."_

But Draco didn't answer. His teeth clenched out of ire as his eyes darkened with shadows. _"My name isn't yours to know. But for defying me, I will make you tell me yours!"_ He raised his palms upward and shadows erupted from the sand, slithering up his legs, forcing the fire into backing off.

"_Back!"_ Cirgan ordered, _"Create a wall!" _The demonists drew up into a line and a wall of fire formed in front of them, moving buckler against their enemy. _"Irch Liran,"_ the commander invoked. Draco frowned at what demon had just been launched against him, but his worry was short lived as Karnar's soul stirred against his, demanding to be invoked, wanting to fight.

Draco snickered. _"A devil… How original,"_ he drawled. Liran was facing him, outside of the fire wall but protected by his master's shadows. Older than Karnar by some years, he also was taller, physically stronger. But what would make the difference wasn't physical, it was magical, and during his fight against Dumbledore, Karnar had become much more powerful. Draco smiled evilly, his teeth showing. _"Irch Karnar."_

Cirgan screwed up his eyes. This was a little devil, a child. Logical considering the intruder's age, but contradictory to the power he suspected the intruder possessed.

"_Are you willing to risk your demon?"_ the intruder asked with a smirk. _"I will have no pity for him."_ And as he was talking, he was transferring energy to Karnar, begetting balls of static electricity and cracking the air around his little devil.

As Hath'Gack had taught Draco, demonists rarely fought concretely. Given the very little number there was of them compared to their enemies in this world, it was uncommon of them to truly inflict damage on another demonist, preferring to 'show off' till one of them backed down. The trick was to demonstrate enough to frighten the adversary, while keeping enough hidden in case the battle still broke out.

Answering to the intruder's provocation, Uron took a step forward and invoked his first demon. The beast launched, taking place near Liran, facing the rogue demonist, baring his teeth.

Draco observed the new demon with interest, absorbing quickly the information Hath'Gack was providing on that race. Sort of enormous scaled dog, the animal would have no problem severing Karnar in two if given the chance. A strong animal for a strong master. As Draco had foreseen, this was the man to defeat.

But suddenly, an idea so incredibly crazy cropped up in his mind. This was absurd, the wandering of a man whose brain had been heated up by the sun, and yet… It could be the sort of project to raise up crowds, to launch waves of proud and loyal soldiers in a deadly battle. And as quickly as Draco's wrath had been triggered, it quietened down, dampened by the realisation that the enemy in front of him could also become an ally.

"_Your name,"_ Uron asked, replacing his commander as leader, unaware of the complete turn this battle had just taken, _"And we will let you go," _he repeated his leader's words.

But Draco wasn't a man to be swayed by menace, especially when he was teeming with so many ideas of a bright and glorious future.

A crackle echoed above their heads as the sun died around them. Uron raised his sight a second, just the time to see a cloud forming in the sky, shots of molten magma erupting in numerous furrows. _'This is impossible…,'_ he thought, _'No demonist has that much power at this age. There's something behind it… There's…'_

"_A wizard-born,"_ murmured Cirgan.

Uron's face switched toward him in a dash, astonished by the mere idea of it. But it was so logical, this tallied so thoroughly with what they knew of the intruder… And what could they do now? Uron's other demon was of transport, it couldn't fight. Cirgan's had been injured too recently to be of much help. The other soldiers were young scouts, they had been chosen because this had seemed like a routine mission, something that would train them. They had no experience of a fight like this one could turn on to be…

'_His control of shadow is too good for someone with only a devil. He probably possesses another demon, one that is affiliated with shadows, therefore likely able to measure our strength. We won't fool him by invoking other demons, he'll know they're of no use.'_

As if feeling his hesitation, the intruder's lips curved upward in a small obliging smile and Uron sighed. The young man had abandoned the fight, he was playing with them. The intruder's smile grew and in a swift move of his wrist, shadows, cloud and devil vanished, leaving only the near child faced with the faction and their invocations. The outcome of this conflict had been decided long ago…

"_My name is Uron,"_ he said, calling back his demon, _"Let the others go, they're no threat to you."_

"_True,"_ Draco grinned, _"Anyway, you were the only one I was interested in. Tell me… Uron,"_ he savoured the roughness of the name in his throat, _"if I was going into battle and needing soldiers, would you follow me?"_

Uron stared at Draco, hearing in the voice the words that hadn't been spoken aloud, those that said it would be no little fight, but a hard and deadly campaign for a grander cause. He looked very hard at the wizard-born to discover what could be his idea, his heart accelerating ever so slowly at the proposition, swayed as he was by the project. And he would have hesitated, torn between his own desire and his vow to protect his tribe, hadn't it been for the mild prodding at his mind, urging him in answering.

"_I will,"_ he only said. For, taught in the tradition, Uron had learned early to recognise the signs of the gods, and it wouldn't be said he had refused the backing of one.

And Draco smiled. This was no more of an unworkable screwy idea, but it also was the new working purpose of his life. One that he would take to its term, for the greatness of demonists!

"_Then go on with your life, and maybe in a month, maybe in ten years, I will come for you."_

o-

"Merlin's beard, that thing is an egg??! It's repulsing!" Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust. The egg in question was a fifty centimetres long sac of an indefinite material coated in a thing that sickeningly looked like bloody phlegm. And the tentacles were two sticky arms made in a sort of blood-oozing elastic thing… That was certainly all the information they needed!

"And he imagines we're gonna touch that?!" Luna shrieked, "No way!"

Their plan had actually worked too well for it to last. Ginny had sat next to Hermione at lunch, which the head girl hadn't minded since Ron had gone sulking after she reproached him with his behaviour. Ginny had only mentioned Malfoy's death, and that most of his projects would forever remain unfinished, along with an intended look; then Hermione had suddenly recalled a book she had forgotten for a class in the evening, and that she absolutely needed because she couldn't risk falling behind and that wouldn't miss from happening if she didn't have at least three books a class. So, Ginny being the good little friend, had accompanied Hermione to her prefect room.

Faced with Draco's potion stash, Ginny realised that 'obviously suspected something would happen' probably wouldn't have done justice to Malfoy's state of mind before his disappearance. He had known there would be problems. And had prepared accordingly.

About thirty phials were disposed in a case, separated by woolly shelves. Around each phial, an inscription indicated the content. A notebook completed the case, reporting each of the potions, their recipes and uses. Tainting potion, mind-altering draught, anti-Morsmordre antidote, anti-Morsmordre preventive potion, mind-separating breeze, duplicating draught, magical walls acidic dose, whatever you could wish for and more. And in the corner, a fluorescent blue potion: 'Portkeying brew. Never tested'

"I've got to hand it to him. When Malfoy set his mind on something, he didn't do it half way," Hermione commented sadly as she watched Ginny cramming vials in her pocket and copying out their use indications. And when Ginny had said she'd need Harry's cape, Hermione had retrieved it for her. She had asked no question, certainly too aware of the risks they were both taking. The less she knew, the better for all of them.

On her part, Luna had taken a seat near Esther. It hadn't been difficult: Ron's outburst had brought attention over the Ravenclaw, and many avoided her since then. Of all the students in Hogwarts, Draco had trusted only one enough to let him into the secret of his special project. It had been Blaise Zabini. Zabini who, hearing about Dumbledore's arrest, had lost no time in seeking his girlfriend and entrusting her in turn with the location of Draco's legacy to the Light. And, true to her word to the now Azkaban captive, she had lead the two Gryffindor girls to the small recess in the first-floor toilets, then left them alone, never asking for more information. For everybody knew that rarely anyone entered Moaning Myrtle's toilet. Combined with an freshener spell, it had made the trick for a week already.

There they were, at eleven o'clock, in the toilets, under an invisibility cape, a transfigured basket in hand.

"Will it be big enough?" Ginny asked, rising her bag next to the egg to broadly compare.

"It better be," Luna shrugged, "Wand magic is restricted for the night, and Malfoy forgot to create a swelling potion."

"Well… I suppose we can cram it a little. Malfoy said no shock, he never mentioned packing…"

None of the girls was moving, both peering doubtfully at the dangling mass.

"Malfoy wrote to you," Luna suddenly declared, "It's you to start."

"You're older. You get the honour," Ginny replied.

"Maybe we should wake Hermione…"

o-

Lord Hillirhan scanned the horizon, immediately spotting the steam swelling up from the movement of the horses' hooves on the sand. As had announced Irs'Galan, their second Sentinel, his children were coming back. Rapidly noticing the black spot in the sky announcing Irs'Shaf was also on his way, he retired to the shaman's tent, confident that the travellers would know where to find him.

The old man was kneeling on the mats that composed the floor of his tent, smashing stones into powder, and Hillirhan sat near the shaman, observing his old but agile hands working on the rocks. He didn't speak, he needn't to. Sha'Sinaï already was aware of his worries, for he was the first who had felt the opening of the Veil.

At length, Hillirhan heard the distinctive dull sound of the Sentinel mount landing, and Irs'Shaf penetrated the tent, reaching his shaman in long strides and bowing to the old man. The lord could have punished him for forgetting he was part of the tribe and therefore subject, as would have many other tribes' chiefs; but Hillirhan had long ago decided that the Sentinels' priority was to be the shaman. That way, he never had to worry about keeping their prime healer safe. Despite the gasp in power and influence there was between the lord and shaman roles, Hillirhan was aware of Sha'Sinaï's importance, and he would rather lose the strength of the two sentinels to his protection, rather that risking the chosen's life.

Abandoning his task and setting down carefully his pestle and mortar, Sha'Sinaï turned toward the Sentinel and welcomed open his arms, allowing Ir'sShaf to settle between his legs and to bend his face to his neck, reviving his senses with his shaman's scent.

Hillirhan's lips curved up slightly in an impalpable smile, remembering his youth, when all shamans were to keep their faces painted. But times were changing, and nowadays, only the braids remained… His thoughts were interrupted by his children's arrival, and their counting of their expedition. Hearing the battle growing, then seeing the display of power from his aerial platform, Irs'Shaf had wisely joined the siblings before they reached the fight, preventing them from stumbling on the opponents, and risking a less than favourable fate.

"When Lord Preulk's soldiers left, he took the path toward the devils' cavewall," Kaalan finished the narrating.

Hillirhan sighed. "This doesn't help us much. We still don't know his name…"

"But we may not need it," the shaman interrupted, "Never have the gods turned against demonists, and the last months didn't show any will of them to change. The intruder is their chosen one and we should respect him for it. He is a wizard-born, a demonist destined to a great future… He screams like a dragon…" he added with a smirk.

"The godsend of the dragon emblem…"

o-

"So… What do we do now?" The sentence wasn't a question, more like the interrogative remark of their desperation. After unsticking the tentacles with moult grunts of disgust, the two girls had gone out of the school under Harry's invisibility cape, praying that no too-attentive eye would be out in the cold, under the rain that just wouldn't stop. Draco's magical walls acidic dose had worked with perfection, but after all, potions had been his forte.

At first, they had wanted to use the Duplicative Draught, but, unaware of the time their excursion would take, they had preferred to go in person rather than risk headaches. Moreover, since Malfoy hadn't mentioned it, who knew how the human copy would react to apparating?

"I hope Malfoy didn't set us up!" Luna moaned.

"And that our contact wasn't arrested…" Ginny added, somewhat uncaring for the poor bloke's fate, whoever he was, fearing more for their own security if someone noticed their absence.

"Yeah… This is just what we'd need… Why couldn't we have left that thing in the toilets anyway? Since it was so 'great' an hiding place."

"And we still have no idea of what's in it…" Ginny reminded while stamping on place, trying to warm up her numbing with cold legs.

"Probably a monster of some sort…" Luna snorted.

'Hopefully not a basilisk…' Ginny's mind trickily added, increasing her doubts on their nightly excursion, 'Naaa… Malfoy wouldn't have dared… He'd better!!'

A howl suddenly echoed in the empty street, startling them. Above their heads, an owl was twisting its face at them, observing their package with a sort of warped curiosity, a twinkle of peculiar hunger flickering in its big and round gold eyes. Out of impulsive intuition, Luna tucked the woollen cover in, making sure no part of the egg could be seen, hiding it from the inquisitive look.

"Hoot!!" the bird screeched again.

"You think it's our contact?" Ginny inquired, her knees still shaking from the shock.

At her words, the owl flied away, only to land on a workshop's sign at the end of the street, and stare again at them, the glimmer of merriment never leaving its pupils. The two girls peered at each other, unspoken agreement written on their faces.

"Well…" Luna scanned the dark streets the bird had headed in direction to, "It's the only living thing in this alley anyway, so let's follow it!" She finally stated with an assurance she visibly hadn't, walking determined steps toward the owl.

Once they reached it, the bird repeated the process and flied away some dozens of meters, turning the corner of a street, then waited for them again, comforting them in their idea that it had been there on purpose. They walked so during a rough fifteen minutes, before they turned another corner, bumping in a patrol of aurors.

"Wand out!" the one they had walked straight into screamed, making the girls shriek out of fear. "There is someone here!"

"Show yourself!" another auror ordered, "And hand down your wand!"

"Back! Back!" Ginny babbled urgently, backing into Luna, trying in her haste and panic to turn under the Cape without taking her feet in it or losing the Egg.

"There! In that street!" Luna caught her arm and pulled it in the direction she desperately hoped to reach before the aurors understood the reason why they couldn't see them.

"Block the street!" an auror yelled "Don't let them escape!" He muttered a spell and a wall of brick appeared at the ends of the alley, shutting off their path.

"Apparate!" Ginny whispered.

"But where to? They'll hear us!"

"Back at the pet shop, we'll come back here by another way!"

And two cracks echoed in the dark, warning the aurors their preys had escaped. "Inform all patrols that two intruders have penetrated the zone. They mustn't get out of the Diagon Village."

While in another street…

"Luna? Please, tell me you're in one piece?" A tiny voice beseeched.

"I'm in one piece… I guess…" the Ravenclaw responded. "And the Egg?"

"Seems fine too… Geez, poor thing, it'll have deserved its rest… No shock, Malfoy had said…"

"We'll get concerned about it later. Let's go back to the owl… And it'd better have been waiting for us!"

Following the streets they had already covered once, they listened for any sound and got round two auror patrols that were searching for them. The bird had stayed where it had stopped previously, silently preening its feathers. Noticing the slow moving of the air where the Invisibility Cape deformed the view, it took wing again, carrying on in its own street way, only pausing to verify they still were following.

Despite their precautions and the distance they put between themselves and any suspicious noise, when the bird insisted on entering a lightened street, they had no choice but to follow.

Thanking Merlin for the curfew that the Ministry had set up in Diagon Alley, therefore the darkness that surrounded them, they quickly retreated into a shady nook, wedging themselves in the small alcove, holding their breaths, their hearts speeding up at the fear of being discovered.

"Ah! There it is!" a voice they knew but couldn't recognise exclaimed. "No letter for me, Dully? Good! I'll be able to close the shop now. Officers, I excuse again for the lateness, but I couldn't sleep not knowing if my command had been received," The voice was upset but also relieved, and Luna thought she could distinguish a tinge of contempt in the soft and old blend of tones.

"It's normal," another voice replied, this one joyful and slightly boastful, "Wands are long and hard to prepare, and they're much needed. We understand you can't fall behind in your production. You should be more careful though: suspected Death-Eaters have been spotted around there. Close well your door tonight."

"My deepest thanks for your comprehension, officers. I will make sure my door is filled in. I bid you a good night, misters."

"Likewise, Mr Ollivander."

The old wizard closed his door and the two girls heard the patrol leave in the opposite direction, certainly going on with their rounds. As soon as the aurors had disappeared from the street, the door half-opened again in silence, and the wand-crafter's head passed through the gap. He scanned the darkened alley then, seeing not what he was searching for, hissed: "Children, do not keep me waiting!"

Reacting, Ginny and Luna dashed for the door and hurled inside, their precious package tucked between them. Only inside, hidden in the back shop whose light couldn't be seen from outside, they breathed freely again.

"A pleasure to meet you again, Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, poplar wood for 'Overcoming the doubt', 10'', swishy and Aethonan hair if I remember correctly; and Miss Luna Lovegood, chestnut tree for 'The quest of the trust', 11 1/4'',springy, mooncalf nerve."

"So it is you?" Ginny inquired after her heart stopped beating harshly.

"Mr Malfoy's contact?" Ollivander clarified, smiling softly, "Indeed, it is me. I feared you would never pass through the aurors…"

"Well…" Luna smiled back, "It was close, but the Umbugulars' eyes were bothered by the new life's light and they didn't see us. By the way, how is it they didn't suspect you were in connivance with us?"

"I created the wands for every wizard of England. I am above suspicion." He said with a sparkle of self- satisfaction in the eye, the same glow that had shone in his owl's, the sort of proud and wicked beam that screamed 'Slytherin!' to the girls. "So, this is Mr Malfoy's special project?" He inquired, staring at the basket with undisguised interest.

"Yeah…" Ginny answered, suspicious of the wizard's curiosity. "But Mr Ollivander… What wouldn't you tell us first: what reason would you have to help Malfoy?"

"Ha, that…" he sighed, "You see, children, I really love my job. Creating wands is all my life and I would change my vocation for nothing in the world, but I have been doing that for a century now, and I admit that I sometimes get bored… But when Mr Malfoy wrote me two days ago, he didn't ask for any wand… He sent me a challenge!"

"But that doesn't answer my question," Ginny insisted, her eyes set on Ollivander's.

"Does it?" The man smiled, "When you are as old as I am, you will also be thankful of those who brighten the dullness of your life."

"And if that challenge was meant to support You-Know-Who, would you still help him?"

Ollivander chuckled. "Do you know what composed Mr Malfoy's wand, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny eyed Luna for an idea, but the girl only shrugged. "No," she admitted, unsure of the connection with the subject.

"You see, the Malfoy family has a long tradition of wands made of ash or fir wood. Ash's device is 'Always Aiming Higher'. Those who possess an ash wand care more about the future than the others, and if they have set themselves a target that requires commitment, they are willing to give up many things for it to happen. It is extremely important to them that they retain their independence, identity and freedom; but given a good reason, they can be truly faithful in serving a man or a cause. That explains why, during centuries, the Malfoys were chosen by the Most Powerful to be their right arm. They are the best. Lucius Malfoy was part of those who possessed a fir wand, reserved about everything that affects him closely, taking refuge behind a façade of proprieties. But to the one that wins his trust, he can become the most reliable ally and friend. A legend says that 'Each birth brings some light into the mysterious darkness as did the Christmas tree of everybody's childhood' and the fir device is 'Watches over every birth'. That's the reason why Dumbledore didn't doubt Lucius would betray You-Know-Who in order to protect Draco."

He stopped a moment to sit on a chair and beckoned them to imitate him. "When Narcissa Black came for her son's wand, years ago, she brought a tuft of his hair and, as usual in these situations, many wands answered the magical call. She chose a wand made of ash and dragon heartstring, probably to keep up with tradition, and I thought it to be a good choice. Draco used the wand for five years, but just before his sixth year at Hogwarts, he complained about it. Her mother came back, with him this time, and I realised there had been an error.

Sometimes, I take pleasure in being more original with the wands I created. Some years ago, I started crafting wands whose cores weren't from an animal. Mr Malfoy was the first to acquire such a wand. Walnut, framing a core of desert ivy," he smiled, "Walnut means 'Looking for a homeland'. Walnut possessors are known for their tenacity. They accept to endure lots of troubles just to satisfy their pleasures; and when they undertake to do something, their perseverance is unlimited. When they love, they love until death. Such an uncompromising character is linked to the power of the subconscious."

"Why are you telling us all that?" Luna asked. She had always thought the information on one's wand to be quite personal, and was surprised that Ollivander, wand-maker, would take the permission to divulge so much.

"Because young Draco Malfoy loves too many people of the Light to betray us. That's why I trust him. Also because I want you to understand how it was possible for him to become a demonist. His first wand was wrong. He never was able to develop his wizard magic until a late age, and then, the demonic influence in him had grown too strong for the true wand to compete. However, that didn't prevent the wand from reflecting his character. Walnut wood is powerful, perfect for a Slytherin, but the more interesting is the core: ivy, also known as the plant Phoenix, representing the unending cycle of death and rebirth, the eternal return. Desert ivy is rare because it ensures its holder of the gods' protection. I don't know what happened in the forest where he is said to have been killed, but if his true wand was any indication, Mr Malfoy will survive us all."

o-

Draco walked down a rocky path, snaking between close and unstable mountains, each step bringing more excitation to his already hard-beating heart. Karnar was sitting on his shoulders, seemingly unaware of his master's state of mind, but Draco knew better than to believe the impassive face of the child. Karnar's soul was boiling with pleasure, impatient as he had rarely ever been.

Somewhere, in a place unreachable to anyone that wasn't accompanied by a devil, were the cavewalls. And in these mountain holes were living a tribe of devils. In one of these had Karnar spent the fifteen years of his life. Draco had been flabbergasted when learning his sweet child was in fact nearly as old as he was, but Hath'Gack had soon remedied to his interrogations. Devils were in the incapacity of growing on their own. They needed a master to develop, thus making their species' existence very fragile. That also explained why they bred a hundred children. So few of them reached the age of conceiving that the balance of nature was kept unperturbed.

But what bothered Draco was to learn that devils grew accordingly to the empowering of their masters. Why then hadn't Karnar grown, given the fabulous powers that Draco had obtained since their alliance? But to that question, however, Hath'Gack had no answers. And so Draco was on his way to seek counsel from one of the most dangerous creatures of the demonic world: a grown devil. To his luck, there apparently even were two of them: mother and father. Great…

Suddenly, Karnar's little hands clenched his hair, twisting his scalp near pain and Draco extended his aura, seeking the reason. He didn't have to search far. There, just beside a rock corner, was a presence powerful enough to make his guts coil.

Taking the last few steps that kept him from meeting the creature in person before his courage could fail him, he gulped at the sight.

'_Holy daemons… This is his mother?'_

While the body was greatly similar to that of a human, the woman who turned toward him was far, far taller than he'd imagined. Something along the lines of two meters fifty, a frame defined by muscles … And Karnar that was so small and fragile…

'_Do I really have to meet his father?'_ Draco asked Hath'Gack with a sentiment akin to dread.

'_I'm afraid it's now too late to back out… But don't worry, if you die, I'll cherish your memory.'_

'_That gives me so much faith…'_

But against his most morbid expectations, the female devil only smiled at him, and Draco would almost have found her beautiful, if he hadn't already been imagining the sort of reaction the husband could have at his only thinking along those lines…

"_So it is you all this uproar was about? What did you do to the demonists?"_

"_Nothing much,"_ Draco answered with a tight smile, not certain about the conduct or view to adopt concerning the other magical creatures of the demonic world. What could be the devils' thoughts on humans? _"I just gave them a good fright."_

He couldn't develop anyway for Karnar was already struggling to come down his shoulders. Kneeling as to let the little child get off without falling, he watched with a benevolent grin his pet demon, his sweet imp, run toward his mother and get hugged. And his demon looked so lithe in the strong arms of the woman that he feared just an instant for the safety of the one he loved like a son.

But his mother was careful of her strength, and it was so obvious she loved her child that Draco felt a pang of guilt, knowing that it hadn't been nurtured by his concern for Karnar, as much as by his sudden dread that the child would prefer staying there with his family rather than returning in his master's life.

His fear assuaged when the boy came back to him and took possessively hold of his hand as they headed toward the cavewall. And as Draco's sight fell on the hundred children looking at him in awe, he fathomed Karnar's obsession with showing that this human was his. Having so many brothers, it must be extremely rare for him to own something that wouldn't be others' too. Karnar was jealous Draco could be stolen by his brothers, or worse, Hath'Gack added at the attention of Draco's mind only, that his master would decide he preferred another…

'_In conclusion, I'm stuck with two possessive freaks…'_ the shadow demon finished.

'_Just wait till I meet another of your race and we'll see how you react…'_ Draco smirked.

'_I will kill it, for I am the wisest and the strongest. And if another comes, I will kill it too, till there is none of them left to get to you,' _Hath'Gack replied with both seriousness and passion in its voice.

Draco froze the time of a twinkling, astounded at the fierceness his demon demonstrated. But his surprise was short-lived as he felt the familiar possessive tug around his soul, crushing his muddled emotions, leaving only pride and warmth. He chuckled and took a few more steps forward.

In front of him, an immense rocky wall was driven with holes at different heights, all joined together by small ladders. _'Ok for the cavewall…'_

"_Disperse children! Couldn't you allow us to breathe? Karnar! Out with your brothers! We need to have a big people time!" _At the strong and dark voice that echoed in the small mountains paths, a flurry of children went running in disorder.

Draco observed in silence his devil obeying his mother, wishing he could remember his own. But the place that this woman may have once occupied in his mind and heart was still vacant and cold, a dead spot of unknown. Had she loved him? Or had she considered him a nuisance, an inconvenient baby that she'd rather get rid of than raise?

'_I'm a wizard-born in a world of demonists, and I was shadow-chosen in a world of wizards. Of course they hated me. Why would I be here alone if not?'_ He sighed. _'And what would be the worst anyway? Not to remember her at all, or to be confirmed that she was repulsed by me? By what I am…'_

He looked down at his hands. His fingers were long and white, unmarked by any hardness of life, except… for the sand stuck under his nails and… was that blood? He looked closely at the stains that sullied his skin and licked it. His own blood… Why would he have his own blood under his nails? And he suddenly reminisced his wounds, those that covered nearly the whole of his chest… those that he apparently had inflicted to himself…

'_Death… That was a life-vanishing pentacle on me… Hath'Gack, tell me I didn't that to myself?!!'_

But once again, he was met only by silence. The demon had no more accurate memories of that night than he did. An enemy, a shaman Troll, curses, fire, and then… the knife… _'I did it. I actually did it. What was I thinking? If I had tried to commit suicide, I couldn't have done better! Suicide… No, no, no! I'm not suicidal!'_

"_Are you fine?"_ A voice asked him. Draco came out of his thoughts and looked at the newcomer. A man, likely in his forties… Yeah right, a man… A devil! Certainly in his second century. He was Draco's height, but more strongly built, with broader shoulders. Maybe a brother of Karnar that was still growing since he hadn't reached his mother's height.

Draco excused his absence with a smile. _"Yes, sorry, I was lost in memories…"_

The demon's gold eyes turned pensive as his arm circled Draco's shoulders, pulling him toward once of the biggest caves. _"Ha, the past is a dangerous thing, it lulls you from the present by his sweet words of hope and when he holds you in his clutches, he keeps you at his mercy, feeding your mind with remorse and pain. You shouldn't dwell on old memories. Those can only hurt._'

Relaxed by the devil's open stance, Draco stifled a laugh. The warmth that spread in his body from the devil's arm soothed his fears and doubts about his past family. Dubiety that he should just forget: the devils could be his family. Karnar awakened feelings of tenderness in him that he was certain hadn't been there for long, so strongly they clutched his heart; his mother lit a little fire in the back of his mind, a call for affection that he missed with a passion; and the devil near him roused an incredible desire to please despite the very few seconds that they had known each other.

Yes, the first moment of strangeness passed, he didn't feel quite so awkward near them, among a hundred beings of another race, surrounded by mountains that he could easily get lost and die in. This was his new home, his new family. And it was the only that mattered.

He froze in his tracks. In the cave, her face lightened by the faint glow of star stones, a young woman was engaged in conversation with the female devil. Surprised to meet anyone of the human race, Draco took the time to observe her. She was young, probably no more than sixteen, still in her wandering years then. Searching for a city, a husband, or just a reason to live. Her clothes did little to hide her tanned skin and he admired the sensual play of lights on her well defined curves.

'_Nice specimen…'_ Draco commented at his demon with amusement, while winking at the girl and making her blush under his ogling stare.

'_Keep your stamina in check, Dom Juan; she's not of your rank.'_

Draco chuckled at the reminder and sat next to the male devil. Despite the thoughtlessness he had just openly showed and intended on displaying with any female whose body made her worth of his attentions, he was well aware that such behaviour could be frowned upon by clans' lords. It was slightly less than two centuries since the last wizard-born had turned up in the demon world, and once Draco would be fully revealed to the human population, he would be expected to live up to the title, power and reputation.

He would be obliged to choose a wife among the finest society, a woman that would be able to handle the hardness of sitting on a throne, and to reign supreme on the court. To bother looking at women whose capacities didn't match the outstanding requirements he himself set for his Lady would be keeping a gate open to all sorts of self-interested deceivers, which he would rather avoid. Also thusly meaning that he would be forced to avoid any sexual contact until his betrothal. He wasn't willing to risk a life of marriage for a night of sex.

This took his thoughts to another realisation: he had no idea whatsoever of his 'bodily knowledge'. Was he a womanizer, a seducer; or a nice little boy, still pure and untouched? Did he have many conquests, or was he still a virgin? Had he even been interested in the sexual components of his body, or had he been so engrossed in a crusade for power that he never had spared a glance to another being? Holy death, he couldn't even remember if he held any attraction for the other sex!

But witnessing the light blush that tainted the girl's cheeks and neck, disappearing in her cleavage, enhancing the shadows on her fully-bloomed bust, he fathomed both that his worries about his appeal were unfounded, and that it would be more difficult than foreseen to resist the attraction, and to not give in to the easy preys that his power freely offered him.

Sneering at his own lack of luck, he crouched in front of the duo of devils. An eyebrow shot up when he first noticed the complete absence of distance between the two of them. Even for mother and son, they seemed awfully close…

'_Draco,'_ the shadow demon called, slightly hesitant, _'I think they're husband and wife…'_

The wizard-born didn't move but his second eyebrow reached up in a swift move to meet the first, _'You did noticed the height discrepancy, didn't you? In built too…'_

'_Yes, and I recalled that devils were a matriarchal society.'_

'_Ho… Well… I feel sorry for the guy when he goes to bed…' _He snickered to himself.

"_Now that we can have some respite from the children,"_ the female devil revelled in, interrupting his thoughts, and he thanked the sky that mind-reading had never been a devil speciality, _"Would you enjoy some nanekefir?"_ she asked with a smile before getting up.

The human girl smiled sweetly, nodding, and the woman turned to Draco for an answer.

'_What is that thing?'_ Draco hastened to ask Hath'Gack, afraid to appear ignorant in front of the devils.

'_A sort of warm goat milk with mint,'_ the spirit answered in a tone that sounded disturbingly disgusted.

While shamans had long ago mastered the art of calling for rain and water, milk remained a scarce commodity in the desert. Any beverage made of it was only used for babies, or special occasions. Draco gathered the first meeting of a devil family with the master of one of their sons entered into this category. Despite the opening of the proposition, it would be regarded as obnoxiously rude of him to refuse. He could only nod.

The female left, leaving him alone with her husband and the young human, none of witch seemed inclined to talk. The girl was looking very pointedly at the small fire and the demon had closed his eyes, as dozing off. But what Draco perceived as uneasy silence appeared to be paid no heed to by the others.

'_Another custom I don't know of?'_ Draco's mind inquired.

'_Mostly the relief of finding some quiet, I'd say,'_ Hath'Gack replied, amused. _'But I couldn't be certain. Keep in mind that my knowledge of devils is quite limited, I'm learning alongside with you.'_

Soon enough, Karnar's mother was coming back with clay bowls and a sort of tureen that limpid smoke escaped from and that she deposited on the soil between the four of them. She distributed the bowls and handed Draco a ladle which he used to serve them all, uncertain about the reason he was to serve. He suspected it had again something to do with the rarity of the milk, and the power it gave the one who served. Sort of a show of respect. Moreover, the way he reflexively made the ladle plunge in the milk, then raise and skim the liquid surface to remove the drips from the utensil, added to the very little uneasiness he felt in his hand warned him that, even if he had obviously been trained to service properly, it wasn't one of his most common activities.

And only when raising the bowl to his mouth did Draco understand the repulsion in his demon's mind. That thing simply was revolting. It smelt of pungent rotten milk, sweetened by what vaguely… very vaguely… could pass for mint. The odour immediately went to his stomach, twisting it painfully. He tried to reassure himself by recalling his body that he hadn't eaten in a day, so there was nothing to throw up. _'And thank Death for that because it'd already be all on the floor…'_

He swallowed back his nausea at the idea of having that repelling beverage inside of his mouth and prayed that none of his disrelish showed on his face as he gulped down a mouthful of it. It didn't seem possible, but the smell was nothing compared to the taste. _'Let me die… This is the worse poison ever…' _Draco begged, feeling his stomach lurch against the definitely unwanted intrusion.

'_Stop being childish and smile!'_ Hath'Gack smirked.

'_You, shut up! It's not you that has to drink that awful thing!'_

'_Yeah…'_ the demon added, snickering, _'And it's not me either that has got to finish the rest of the bowl… And maybe take a second serving…'_ he insisted for the sheer pleasure of feeling Draco's thoughts of disgust. _'Ah! The joy of being ethereal…'_

'_I hate you…'_

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a blur as Draco had to occupy his mind and escape in his memories to keep from throwing his drink up. He discovered more and more of his past personality, his quick tongue and tendency to search for weaknesses and ways to hurt. He also realised that he remembered his technical knowledge. Every thing he had ever learnt was carved in his mind as if it dated only from the past day. And with these memories came back the desperate itching in his fingers to handle a cauldron. He had loved Potions making. Probably still would, if given the chance…

Hopefully, the devils and demonist girl didn't seem much interested in talking. While imps were so talkative, it appeared grown devils made up for the lack of silence they endured as kids. Only the male was sending him glances from time to time. As Hath'Gack had forewarned, he took a second serving, just for the sake of staying in the female's good graces… Given the pace he apparently could make enemies at, he would need all the allies he could gather…

When they were finished, the human girl accompanied Karnar's mother to the river for water and Draco was left with the father, who decided they were to travel to the forge. As they arrived there, Draco was surprised to see the devil opening a sand-covered trap on the floor, taking out a bottle and handing it to him.

"_You should take a swallow,"_ the devil smiled, obviously amused, "_You probably need it after the kefir…"_

Draco couldn't help but smirk, however managing to keep back the comment that was weighting on his tongue, along with the repulsive after-taste of the drink. Opening the bottle, he sniffed it with prudence, only to be met by the bitter taste of some sort of beer, and eagerly lifted the bottleneck to his lips, gulping it down, feeling it wash away the remnants of the milk from his mouth.

"_Your wife knows about the stash?"_ He inquired with a half-grin as the demon took a swallow and pulled a bundle of cloth out of the sand-hidden trap.

The devil only hooked an eyebrow, vague disapprobation tainting his eyes, reproaching the human for even mentioning that he could hide something from his mate. _"No,"_ he only said with a sense of finality.

Not feeling insulted whatsoever by the tone, Draco fathomed this was one of those things that you did and never talked about. Sort of 'what she doesn't know can't hurt her'-thing. He really enjoyed the reasoning. Somehow, it seemed as something he would have done himself. And just to confirm his suspicions, the particularly bright memory of a new wizard whisky brew popped up in his mind.

"_So…"_ The devil sat on the floor, relaxing, opening his bundle and revealing dates, _"Do you have a name to get by?"_ He asked, proposing a sweetened dried fruit.

"_Yeah…"_ He had thought about it on his way to the cavewall. He would probably meet other demonists, he couldn't remain 'the wizard-born' forever… _"Call me Redemption."_ And he popped the date into his mouth, savouring the sugar juice that flooded his taste buds.

"_Redemption…"_ The devil repeated, entertained, _"Quite pretentious, aren't you?"_

"_I live to be,"_ Draco smirked, _"On a more serious tone, I am called Assiir."_

Mind, Death, Fate… Redemption? The demon wondered. He didn't ask if the boy in front of him was truly planning on reaching such a title. It seemed manifest. That one inhaled of overt ambitions, but were they boastful yearnings, insane dreams or the result of a possible future?

"_But… You never did mention a name either…"_ the human went on, sounding as if he had just noticed. Nevertheless, the devil knew better. Assiir, true name or not, may not be as powerful as he pretended to be, but he certainly had the look to back up the intelligence. The youth's clear grey-blue eyes were shining, a colour that the devil had never witnessed on any being, spare on the misty dragons of the sea, only once, thirty years ago, as his master had been dying and had wished to contemplate the immensity of the Dying Sea, to admire just once in his life the landscape that had been the High Demonists territory. The man had died there, killed by the scorpions that had taken over the city. In an effort to avenge his master, the devil had attempted to destroy the nests of beasts that plagued the place, before realising that despite the immensity of power he had gathered under his master's tutelage, he would never possess the necessary strength to fight off the scorpions. Thirty years, a wife and a litter of imps hadn't been enough to let him forget that he hadn't been able to protect his master till the end of his life. That he had let the man die.

And this awfully crystalline colour would be haunting him forever, that tint that wasn't allowed to survive in the sunny desert but that had surrounded him as he escaped the nests of beats, carrying his master's dead body in his arms. Misty dragons had been there, watching them, waiting for something that the devil would always ignore. Then, realising that what they had looked forward to wouldn't happen, they had swooped away and disappeared among the fog.

The devil had never seen them again but, twelve years ago, as his children had, for once and to his relief, been sleeping soundly, their screams had resounded in the sky, soon echoed by that of the Fire dragons in the mountains. Their desperate calls for something, or someone, that hadn't answered.

And there, in front of him, was sitting a young human that shared with the creatures of Nhijihi the purity of their pupils. He was looking at him, as waiting for something and wondering if, this time, it would come.

"_My name is Hazar,"_ he said, nearly a murmur.

The eyes screw up and small wrinkles of satisfaction appeared at the corner. His second master-in-bond was pleased. Hazar only hoped it had been the right thing to do.

"_I have a question… One that keeps bothering me…"_ Draco started, knowing he had the devil's full attention, _"Already two months have passed since I met Karnar; I have become much more powerful and…"_ He hesitated on the way to formulate it, _"I fear he isn't growing as quickly as he should."_

Hazar frowned, hiding the discomfort he had felt as Assiir mentioned the power he had acquired. He sighed, shaking his head. _"Karnar is currently growing at the pace of a human child. It is the rhythm all imps grow at when they get a master."_

"_Yet it isn't enough!"_ Draco insisted, his grey eyes blazing silver at the contradiction, _"He is too small for the level of power I'm reaching. He will get hurt!"_

"_Calm down,"_ the magisterial voice of the devil slashed out, reminding Draco that he wasn't the only mighty people in the forge. _"I met many other devil tribes, and their masters. Some of them were very powerful, but their devils still grew at human speed. This is normal, and the way it should be."_

"_But they were all human,"_ Draco pointed out, keeping his irritation in check. _"I am wizard,"_ he reminded, _"The degree of magic I master is considerably different. Karnar SHOULD be older by now."_

Hazar rubbed his eyes, regretting the time when such matters were well-known and not worried upon. _"There is the possibility of the problem coming from you…"_

"_From me?"_ Draco echoed, incredule.

"_If you are certain that, given your might, Karnar should grow more apace, then it can be caused by the gap between your magic and your body. Would your powers be too developed in relation to your physical potency, it could damper his own organism from responding."_

o-

**Friday, November the 27th **

In one of Malfoy's Manor private rooms, a small gathering was waiting for the solicitor to proceed. The old man scanned the group and repressed a sigh. When he had gotten, a month ago, a parchment from the young Draco Malfoy requesting a meeting to redact a testament according to the law, he had foreseen problems for the family. And when the young Draco Malfoy had required discretion from him, he had forecasted these problems would have repercussions in the whole country. For Malfoys never did anything half way. The contain of the will had only strengthened his fears.

An hour ago had taken place the boy's burial. Draco had wished for a very simple ceremony: no procession, no speech, and no priest. A mother weeping over an empty tomb, next to the empty one of his wanted father. How ironic… A strong gush of wind knocked against a grand window and Dustin flinched. This day was too much alike the one when Draco had come in his office. Over an hour, all of the preconceptions he ever had on the Malfoys were broken.

A child, the son of a convinced death-eater, user of dark magic, that had abandoned that path to become a demonist. That child had been accompanied by a muggle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your presence," he called for calm, "We are all joined today for the opening of Draco Lucius Malfoy's testament, dead on the Friday, November the 23rd."

Under the curious stares of all those present, the solicitor broke the intact seal of the testament and unrolled the scroll. He gave a little caught, remembering too vividly the young man writing these lines, sitting at Dustin's desk, his muggle friend at his side, immortalising the will of a child with too many enemies.

"Mallaiq, on Friday, November the 5th. I the undersigned, Draco Lucius Malfoy, certify redacting this text on my own free will. I the undersigned, Reyan Peter Shemars, certify the undersigned Draco Lucius Malfoy, is redacting this testament while in possession of his complete mental capacities and under no menaces of any sort."

No murmur was heard, but Dustin could see in every pair of eyes the cogs turning, researching if they had ever heard of a Shemars. He mentally smirked. Let them vainly ponder. Lost in their own prejudices against the boy, never would they imagine he could have befriended a muggle, and that young man would be safe from any pressure aiming at nullifying the testament.

"Are called in this testament: Mrs Narcissa Aurora Malfoy, born Black; Mr Lucius Abraxas Malfoy; a representative of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, preferably Mr Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Mrs Minerva Munin McGonagall or Mrs Pomona Dahlia Sprout; Mr Remus Johan Lupin; Mr Severus Silverter Snape; Mr William Helian Weasley; and a representative of the Ministry of Magic."

He paused a moment, wearily hiding his sadness at those missing. But Dumbledore was currently lying alone in one of Azkaban's cells; Snape was kept watch over by aurors in St-Mungo's; and Merlin only knew where Lucius could be hidden. The boy had been so attached to his professor and his father, had admired them with all of his being; had he suspected anything when his father had lured him out? In face with their betrayal, how much time had he lost before fighting his assailants off? And who had striken the last blow, casting the spell that had ended that child's life?

"Misters Lucius Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape being in the impossibility of appearing today, Mrs Minerva McGonagall will represent Hogwarts. Mrs Narcissa Malfoy and Mr Remus Lupin will, as wished by Mr Draco Malfoy, respectively be transmitted Mr Lucius Malfoy's and Mr Severus Snape's inheritances."

How surprised had they all been at finding themselves together. Weasley had at first thought about an error, or a joke, and Dustin had been forced to floo him in order to make him come.

"Remus," Dustin had heard Weasley whispering to Lupin on their way back from the crypt, "Have you got an idea of why I am here? I had never even met Malfoy!"

And the man probably was this that had been closest to the Malfoy child, for he answered: "If Draco mentioned you in his testament, then it means he had a reason, whatever it could have been, to trust you." What could be his plans concerning the unaware Weasley? Many feared Draco Malfoy for his parentage, or for his powers, but none of them had ever fathomed that behind the Malfoy, behind the demonist, there was mainly a Slytherin. One that had learnt to combine a harsh command with a soft touch, to offer wealth and wishes, then to put on a price when he was certain you wouldn't resist.

Dustin beckoned the goblin in the room to begin his lecture. It was commonplace in wizard testaments' lectures that the full possessions of the dead be read before the actual reading of his last wishes.

The young goblin stood up from his armchair and straightened up, throwing out his chest, proud at being the administrator of so many goods. And Draco had chosen him exactly for this reason. Offer a goblin responsibilities, and he will refuse to listen to any prudence speech. He will just be smug, and boast about it. He would disown his friends and family rather than believing he hadn't earned the charge. "On Friday, November the 27th, the personal possessions of late Sir Draco Lucius Malfoy comprise:

The land of Blowin Hillock, Scotland, of a thousand and one hundred twenty-six hectares; the Windy Manor of four hundred and sixty-three square meters of base; the farm Gale House of five hundred thirty-seven square meters base.

The land of La vallée hurlante, Normandy, France of five hundred ninety-six hectares; the Manoir des âmes of four hundred and twenty-seven square meters base; the stud farm Incitatis Aedes of four hundred ninety-two square meters base.

The vault number 473 in the bank Sorcrédit, Paris, France of a value of seven hundred thousands galleons.

The vault number 124 in the bank Gringotts, London of a value of eight hundred and sixty thousands galleons.

The vault number 258 in the bank Gringotts, London of a value of one million one hundred and forty thousand galleons.

The present coffer." He stopped, rolled up his scroll and snapped his fingers, making a medium-sized ebony case appear on the desk near him.

Instantly, Narcissa knew this was what Dars had had in mind when he had said the Ministry wanted to void the testament. The coffer was maybe one foot and a half by two in base, and half a foot in height. Its perfect dark colour was trimmed with fire-carved symbols in a surreal ballet of lines, hiding any opening in the wood, making all wonder what treasure that work of art could contain.

At her side, Remus and Bill were busy trying to work their pending jaws and close their mouths. Remus had known about Draco's inheritance from his grand-parents, but had been far from imagining that the worth could reach such heights. Bill was flabbergasted speechless. Even though he had worked in Gringotts and mixed with some very well-off people, he had never dreamed of such sums. How could someone possess so much money?

"To my parents," Dustin started the lecture, correcting immediately, "Which, in regards to the new developments, is modified in 'To my mother' Narcissa Aurora Malfoy, born Black, I bequeath the entire land of La vallée hurlante and the vault 473 in the bank Sorcrédit, France." He interrupted a moment, waiting if there was any reclamation. Narcissa's eyes screwed with perplexity but nobody moved.

"To Hogwarts, I make a posthumous donation of five hundred and seventy thousand galleons," he smiled when hearing the uptight McGonagall gasp, "to be taken in vault 258 of Gringotts, London; on the probation that," he went on, raising his voice, "my requirements to the school are accepted." Dustin smirked as McGonagall's face fell. "These requirements are drawn-up in a parchment marked Hogwards and must only be opened in the presence of all the school's staff and its head students." He handed a letter to the new Headmistress which she prudently hid away in her robes' interior pocket.

"To Mr Weasley, I bequeath the management of five hundred and seventy thousand galleons to be taken in vault 258 of Gringotts, London." Bill's jaw fell open once more as his eyes rounded in absolute awe. "This management and the full content of the vault are to be turned over to Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley the day she turns seventeen. As for the way this money shall be used, I let written instructions to my solicitor Mr Alan Dustin which are only to be opened that same day."

And all looked so out of it that Dustin couldn't resist the half-smile that tickled his mouth. He had been as surprised as them when Draco had presented him with his project of financing an orphanage. Riddle Mansion would accept purebloods, half-bloods, muggleborns, children of the Light and of the Dark side and educate them with fairness, sparing them the discrimination that many of them would meet outside. Draco had explained he had very little doubts that Dumbledore would win in the end. The old fool was intelligent, he had made clear, and Potter was just The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. Voldemort wouldn't be able to defeat them. Especially if Draco had his way.

However, he apprehended the outcome of the war, when parents would be arrested for serving the wrong side, when their families would be accused of plotting and helping the dark lord, robbed of their houses, when their children would be abandoned to the streets, showed as Satan's spawns, or worse.

Draco feared the Light's vengeance would bring out another Voldemort, born from revenge turned wrong. He needed this eventuality to be taken care of, even in death. Why call the orphanage Riddle Mansion, though? That was a question Dustin would have liked answered.

The solicitor turned back his sight to those in the room. Narcissa's lips were pursed and he suspected that the way her son had decided to squander his fortune didn't suit her, but she didn't dare contradict it. Those requests remained Draco's last wishes after all.

Weasley didn't know what to do faced with the responsibility of so much money and his face reflected his worries.

Lupin was smiling a gentle grin and sparkling eyes that showed all the pride he had in Draco for his last accomplishments. For that one knew the reason the son of the Malfoys' enemies had been called this day. He had decrypted Draco's thoughts and cherished them, now carrying in his heart the reverent satisfaction that, in the end, his loved one had utterly chosen the Light.

"To Mr Severus Snape and Mr Remus Lupin, which will then be passed to Mr Lupin in totality," Dustin rectified, "I leave a letter to each of you." He pulled a case from the desk and extracted two letters he handed to the werewolf. "In case something occurred to Mr Snape, Draco wanted you to have both."

Remus picked the letters almost reverently, contemplating the names written on them in this handwriting that had become nearly as familiar as his own.

"And I bequeath," Dustin went on, "to be shared the way you wish, the entire lands of Blowin Hillock and the full content of vault 124 in Gringotts, London."

Gasps openly echoed in the room at the announcement.

"What? But…" Narcissa faintly stuttered. She had noticed the boundless affection of Draco for his professor, but to the point of handing down so much to him?! That was ridiculous! Had Draco realised what a fortune these represented? Or had he been completely high when redacting his will? Unless… unless there had been something else. And a light suddenly shone bright in her mind, blinding her with memories. Draco's near obsession of the wolfsbane, his reluctance to take a date for the Ball, the time he spent in his professor's company.

Swift as a snake ready to strike, she turned toward her guilty neighbour, her eyes pursed with reprobation. "How could you?" She hissed in a dark tone, satisfied when Remus flinched and blanched at her knowledge. "He was only seventeen!"

"Therefore an adult," Remus replied, his voice low, refusing to allow anyone to taint the love he felt for Draco into an ugly and vile affair of paedophilia. He had tortured himself so much about it already, nearly costing him his heart. No one would make him doubt again.

Albus, Severus and the Gryffindors had been understanding about it, but this was an old pureblooded family, and they prided heirs above all else. Homosexuality was frowned upon and often strongly punished. Narcissa had loved her son, enough to be horrified at the idea of her baby being corrupted by a teacher more than twice his age. Draco had been his student, and with enough evidence, Narcissa could have him sent in Azkaban for such an offence. But should she resort to such violence, he would enter the prison his head carried high, and his love intact. Draco had offered him part of his soul. This was his, and his alone. A possessive surge of ownership gusted his insides and his cheeks flushed with anger. He fully turned toward the woman that was still defying him.

"Concerning the coffer," Dustin cut short any further discussion. Witnessing the confrontation, he had quickly realised it had to be stopped at all cost. Draco would have loathed them to fight and, Dustin suspected, had he been put to the bottom of the wall, he would have chosen the werewolf. The mourning mother wasn't ready to learn this. Making sure the battle was reported for the time being, he went on: "I wished to leave it to the one I had come to consider as a brother and a son, but I fear circumstances and the Ministry won't allow me such liberty. Be it my death wish that they who inherit it give it back to its rightful owner."

He halted, aware that once the last words were pronounced, all Hell would break lose in the room. "I then had to take example on the only wizard that had ever been able of countering such dilemma: the great Merlin."

All eyes were turned toward him, all breathes suspended in time. "Backed by the Malfoy's power, I am calling for a legacy of Merlin. The coffer will be presented to all wizards of the world, and only one worthy of its content will be able to open it."

**End of Chapter 10.**

This chapter will probably contain three more parts. I know I am really slow to update but, to my utter surprise, I am getting tangled in my own plot. I reassure you though: these last chapters are perfectly coherent. Yes, yes, even Narcissa's accusation of Lucius . And she really didn't know about Remus and Draco. Don't worry about Draco either, you know how I am. I like to make you suffer, but I cry each time I read sad endings. Endings are made to be happy. That's the beauty of stories .


	11. Chapter 11: When the cat's away

**Note:** I suggest you reread the chapter 2 for the story of the Erkas. It is at the moment when Remus and Severus go back to the Malfoy lands to see Alayin, Draco's nanny.

Thanks to all who helped me in my dilemma of the pairing. This fic is going to remain a Draco/Remus, thanks to the very convincing arguments of some reviewers. Thank you all.

**Important:** I need a beta. That much will be obvious when you have got a taste of my grammar. Would someone be willing to go through the pain?

**o-**

**Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 11: When the cat's away, the mice will play.**

**Friday, November the 27th **

Torrents of rain were pouring down from white and mighty clouds, refusing to let the Earth any respite from its pain. All birds in the sky were weeping for their friend, their lord, the miraculous Phoenix and the loss that was weighing it down. That fateful day, when its master had been taken away, Fawkes had retreated to the school's darkest corner and waited. It would remain there, hidden from the world, till Albus Dumbledore come back and retrieve it.

Why did its master refuse it? The bird wondered. Why did he forbid to accompany him? There was nowhere it wouldn't go to follow him. But no, its master had ordered it to stay here. So the bird stayed, and cried its heartache out, dampening the grass of its magical tears, feeding Nature its energy.

Two days had passed already and its master still wasn't back. Around Fawkes, vegetation was luxuriating, hiding it from the curious eyes that could have wandered in this area. But he needn't have feared, for the humans of the castle were all confining inside. None had thought about the Phoenix. Why would it have been of any importance?

Fawkes was stretched on the ground, exhausted by waste of power, weakened by the cold setting in. It never felt the pops just outside Hogwarts' barriers that indicated the apparition of wizards. It never heard loud human steps approaching, harsh hands pushing and destroying the herbs around it. It never thought that, with the headmaster away, there was no one to keep track on the trespassers of the grounds. It never realised that the aurors making rounds were too far away. And when it registered the cloaked figures surrounding it, when it tried to scream out for help, it was too late.

Minerva McGonagall, newly appointed headmistress, wasn't powerful enough to bind with Hogwarts' millenary defence. Despite the immense goodwill she put in her students' care, she could do nothing to protect the too weak bird. She didn't even notice it had just been abducted.

o-

"Already back?"

"We need to talk," Narcissa nearly spat.

The man refrained the sad smile from showing on his face. 'Rather admit you didn't want to remain alone in Malfoy Manor… Not that I blame you, I wouldn't have either… But what a tone you have here cousin. Who could have caused your wrath in this dark day and taken you away from your mourning?'

"You know it was Draco's burial today?" she inquired for form's sake.

He snorted. "Indeed. I also know I wasn't invited, despite my being one of his last living relatives."

Narcissa couldn't stop a smirk from curving her lips. "Only the few mentioned in his testament were allowed to attend. He obviously wished the reading unperturbed." 'by you,' she forbore from adding.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders in what she judged a very plebeian move, "If you say so cousin. And what did your son bequeath you? Everything, I suppose?"

Shadows suddenly darkened her look and the man receded slightly in his armchair at the aura of anger that surrounded the lady. Draco had been landlord of estates inherited from his grandparents, both Black and Malfoy. What could he have done with it that would raise such fury from his mother?

"He left me La Vallée Hurlante," she started.

'Yeah… Logical, it's a Black property. So what?' Sirius wondered.

"And he bequeathed Blowin Hillock to Lupin."

"Good…" Then the enormity of the situation invaded his mind and he jumped from his seat. "He WHAT?!!!!!!"

Narcissa sneered. "You heard me. Blowin Hillock and the Windy Manor are now Lupin's."

"Wait, wait!" Sirius tried to calm down, "Are we talking about the same thing? Blowin Hillock, the millenary land of the Duke of Erkas?"

"Yes!"

"The same Erkas that the Malfoys served for centuries," Sirius was panicking, "those they never betrayed, even when confronted with the danger of extinction?"

"Yes!" Nacissa yelled in fury and turmoil.

"And he left Windy Manor to Remus, that same Manor that is said to hold the secret of the Malfoys' power, and the key to their undivided loyalty?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Narcissa screamed, "That same Duke! That same Manor! And that same legend of bloody hallowed altar!"

"He's completely insane!" Sirius raged, his heart in a frenzy, "Moony will get murdered for that thing!"

"And what do you think will happen to us if the dark lord or Fudge lay hands on it?" she hissed at him. "Nobody knows what power rests there."

"How that, nobody knows?" Sirius' eyes pierced through her. "You never went to Windy Manor?"

"No, Lucius forbade it. For all I know, he made the trip only once: the night Draco was born. I thought he was insane, to apparate with my baby like that, but they came back and Draco… my baby had changed… there was power around him, some ancient magic Lucius always refused to talk about."

"So there IS something, it's not just a legend…"

"It never was," she said darkly, "And we remained safe as long as the property belonged to the Malfoys, unused and forgotten. What is going to happen now that it changed hands?"

o-

"Harry?"

Though Hermione could see her friend's head looming from behind the sofa's back, he didn't acknowledge her. The Head Girl screwed up her eyes. Could he be sleeping? But when she advanced on him, she quickly noticed the fully opened eyes that were fixed on the fire.

"Harry?" She repeated softly while laying a hand on his shoulder, slowly pressing on it to raise him from his torpor.

He sighed, but didn't move. "What are we going to do, Mione?" He finally said, his attention still riveted to the flames.

"I don't know, Harry. I just don't know…" And she sat next to him, her warmth transmitting to him in small waves. Two new teachers in the pay of the Ministry had been named to substitute Snape and McGonagall. She was the first woman to rule over the school in four centuries. But, as the two students were well aware of, she couldn't replace her famous predecessor and remained much too weak faced with the Ministry's growing probation and military takeover of Hogwarts.

From the windows of Gryffindor's tower, all could distinguish the blurry forms of the aurors making rounds on the grounds. "Taking a shower," some bold students would add with a bitter smile.

Spells had been installed on the school's doors to detect any entrance… or exit, for they knew that the officials were here as much to watch them as to protect.

"It was Malfoy's funeral today…"

"Yeah…" Harry's fists clenched, "I heard. Did you see Remus?"

"I passed by him in the corridor. He was with Dars. If that wasn't strange enough, I find that Moony's taking it rather well, for someone that lost a lover." She pursed her lips, slightly disgusted by the man's behaviour and fervently hoping it could be rationally explained.

At length, the boy turned toward her. "I don't think they were lovers. In love, yes, but not lovers yet. Remus wouldn't have let it happen as long as Malfoy was his student," he said, stunning her with the reflection.

She had been pleasantly surprised when the Gryffindors had looked at the couple without so much as batting an eyelash at seeing two men together. But she now suspected very few of them had actually fathomed there was more to the relationship than deep friendship and the love of a child for his mentor or that of a man for one he judged his duty. They hadn't reacted, simply because the thought hadn't truly come to their mind. Because homosexuality in the wizarding world was a thing you did but did not tell, an ignominy reserved to married men. Lovers were frequent in the old families, but hidden behind layers of lies. What would the Gryffindors, so proud of their siding among the unprejudiced, have said, had they known?

She closed her eyes, sad and tired. "I suppose… I just have some difficulties bearing the news, I'm taking it out on people. Malfoy was supposed to be the immortal bully, this that you can't get rid of no matter how much you try. And suddenly he became good… well, not good but better at least, and I thought he would be the One who was saved from Darkness, who would stand at your side against his own beliefs. But I guess history isn't made like fairytales… I just need some days to adapt."

"It must be a normal reaction when concerning Malfoy," Harry vaguely smiled at her, "We thought him dead so many times, I feel like he's going to reappear through the ceiling any moment, or something equally stupid and pompous. Strangely… I can't imagine Hogwarts without him. I've been trying for the past hour and he's just everywhere in my memories… classes, meals, quidditch, even the corridors!" He chuckled as a particular scene involving a bumping ferret jumped to his mind.

Their relation with Malfoy had been fuzzy in the least. Very few were the moments during witch Harry could pretend having known the blonde's true sentiments. Even when they were only passing the Hall's doors for the first time, what had he been feeling? Pure hatred, the result of his father's brainwashing, embarrassment at his ridiculed name, or revenge for his friendship being refused? During years, they had only witnessed his rage and cruelty, never imagining there could be something else hidden under these thick layers of animosity.

None other than Remus would have seen how many emotions were locked inside that shell of a body, waiting for someone to unleash them and burst out. In truth, of the Slytherin Ice Prince, Draco had had no more than the title. But that release of love hadn't changed him either. He had remained Draco Malfoy, the evil git. He hated Hermione, but he could respect her form of intelligence. He hated Harry, but he admired his strength. Few were those he had actually liked.

Draco had been unique, a lord of his own. The one that could send six years of hatred to the trash, just say: "Hey, you could be of some use to me. Forget our disagreement and do as I say, okay?" and be obeyed. One that could dance with his male werewolf teacher in the middle of a whole school and be defended by those he had bullied the most. He had been the proud and cocky Slytherin whose face would forever be remembered.

"Who would have thought I'd come to miss the prat?" His voice broke and he chortled darkly, abruptly wiping a tear rolling on his cheek. "He wasn't supposed to die, Hermione! He shouldn't be dead! Dumbledore said he was catching up on me, that soon, he would ask him if we could train together! He said Malfoy had a great destiny, that he would have the power to rule over Darkness if he chose to. And that was why Remus was so important, because he was the bond between Light and Malfoy. But you already knew, didn't you Hermione?"

Only half-surprised by Harry's deduction of her previous knowledge, Hermione nodded. "I did. I fathomed the truth at the Ball, when we discovered them dancing together. And there is something else you need to know about Malfoy… The night he died, I received a package from him. It was samples of all the potions he invented, with their recipes. He knew something would happen to him."

Harry's mouth was slightly gaping and Hermione could see the wheels turning in his brain. "But then… If he sent them to you and not Snape, he also knew he'd be involved…" Had he suspected his professor's scheme? No, that was absurd. Malfoy had Snape looped around his finger and the guy had never seemed to mind. Just some hours before, in Dumbledore's office, they had been laughing together. What could have changed so much that the man would attack his favourite student?

Or… The Ministry had wanted to get rid of Draco since they heard he was a demonist, and they hated Snape. Could they have organised an attack themselves? Yes, that would explain Malfoy's strange behaviour while looking at the forest, he could have sensed something. But then why hadn't Dumbledore noticed it? And why the pentacles on the Potions master? If only the man could have awoken and narrated what had occurred that night… But he now was at the aurors' mercy, and they certainly wouldn't let him have a public judgment…

"And," Hermione went on, "Ginny knew about the potions. I think he also sent something to her. Which meant he could very well have owled other people and let instructions to them."

'We're all caught in a huge dragon web,' Harry thought, 'Malfoy wouldn't have left Remus unprotected. If he suspected his own death, or at least incapacity, he must have weaved his canvas around us. Besides, that guy was too full of himself to die silently. He probably armed a bomb somewhere and it's waiting to explode on us. Means I will have to play by his rules…'

"Hermione," he announced, his voice decided, "From now on, you will lead Dumbledore's Army."

"What?!" She stuttered, "But you? And Ron?"

"He will be with me. I need to know that whatever happens, you will remain here and protect the school. Because I have a plan."

o-

A crack of thunder resounded as Lucius apparated at the gate of the Forbidden Forest, where he knew to be the Riddle Manor. He had been there often enough to recognise the deserted area. However, wherever he looked, there were no residence and no light.

'Where do you hide now, old man?' Everywhere around him, there were only trees and bushes masking creatures whom he'd rather be ignored by. So where had the rusting house disappeared? How could the gate, the main road and the impressive, even if deteriorating, building, could have vanished? But only soil and dust answered his expectations.

'And somehow, I feel like I am turning in circles. No, you are too proud to move your house simply because of me, a mere servant. A glorious master needs a glorious residence. And if it won't be by its profusion of treasures, it will be by its location. In the Forbidden Forest, at the direct opposite of Hogwarts, less than ten miles away from the border of the Malfoy estate.'

'You are the dark lord and you do not cower, but you obscure and conceal, as the snake you remain. It isn't you that masked your home, it is I that cannot see it anymore.'

How much he had laughed, twenty years ago, when the Order had launched an attack at the previous emplacement of the Manor and stumbled over an empty ground, devoid of house and life. Voldemort had used old powerful magic to apparate his house out of reach, to a place in which his own ego would burst from taunting Dumbledore. The Riddle Manor had remained unfound and unperturbed ever thence.

And Lucius was wondering: why? Why hadn't he revealed this place to the Order? He had told them everything: Voldemort's plans, his projects, his magical weak points, how to fight his mind intrusions. So, why hadn't he disclosed this place to them? They had all assumed that, just like Snape, he had no idea of its location, that he usually apparated inside and had never discovered where he exactly was. But Lucius had sought, and had found out. So why did he never tell on it?

'And I couldn't. Each time I tried to broach the subject, the words stuck into my throat. In the end, I couldn't betray you…'

"How nice of you to visit," a voice drawled behind his back.

Lucius' heart made a jump in his chest at being caught like a novice. "Avery," he greeted, his behaviour showing none of his heart's surprise, his face cool.

"Ah!" exclaimed the death-eater, "You still recognise the old comrades! Wand down, traitor!"

Lucius lowered his right arm, keeping his wand clutched in his hand. "I didn't come here to fight but to talk," his silvery voice tried to soothe the man.

Avery snorted. "Same difference!" He poked his wand in Malfoy's back. "I said wand down. That means on the floor! Seems like the Mudblood-lovers' stupidity contaminated you." Sighing, Lucius complied. Letting out a groan of satisfaction, Avery pushed him forward and picked it up. "See, it wasn't that hard. Now, move! The master is waiting for you."

The high lord took a step forward and under his feet slowly came in sight the well-known rusted gate. Stones covered by rotting grass led him at the door and parquet carpeted by dust saw him to the library, where his former master was waiting as his usual these months: reading.

Lucius wondered what could have brought such a conspicuous change in the dark lord, from raving mad and compulsive tormentor to level-headed in his actions and moderated in his punishments. The transformation hadn't started yet when Malfoy was sent to Azkaban, and he had seen too little of Voldemort since then to comprehend such revolution of his way of thoughts. But he hadn't been able to refute it as it showed every day in the decreasing number of mass attacks, and the increasing danger of well-planned plots. Often, at the Order's meetings, Lucius found himself at a loss when confronted with these new methods and he knew that soon would come a time when he wouldn't anticipate anything anymore.

"What a pleasant surprise, Lucius," the dark lord nodded a greeting at his once servant's entrance and closed his book, setting it down on the floor, "You should have warned of your visit. But do not remain standing, take a seat," he beckoned.

Despite Lucius' knowledge of that gap in the lord's behaviour, he couldn't help but be stricken by the calm tone. He had expected quite the cold welcome, warmed up by some torture sessions at the man's hand, a painful reminder of his treason. Yet he found himself sitting in an armchair in front of a fire. Fire? At this realisation, the high lord eyed the flames with care, watching his wand changing hands out of the corner of his eye.

"Getting ideas, Lucius?" Voldemort asked with half a smile. "If I had wanted you tortured, I would have left you standing."

Malfoy tensed even more at the promise of immunity. This was too suspicious. 'I wish he would get on with it, put me in a cell and interrogate me. At least, I would feel in my element. What does he think he's doing, not punishing me?'

"I wouldn't want to bloody my furniture," added Voldemort with a smirk. "But let's not dwell on technicalities. Why this sudden visit?"

"I need information."

"Do you really?" He emitted a little laugh. "What an interesting coincidence. It happens that I have some."

They were interrupted by the entrance of a house-elf. The little being presented the platter he carried to his master, who took a glass, then to Lucius. The high lord hesitated a moment, watching the half-smirk which twisted Voldemort's lips. The drink was probably poisoned, but he couldn't decently refuse it. He took the glass and the elf disappeared in a pop.

Voldemort raised his own and took a sip, his snake eyes closing ever so slightly in pleasure at the taste. "There exists no taste comparable to such ambrosia," he whispered.

Lucius wondered an instant what the dark lord was making reference to, till the unmistakable smell reached his nose: fresh blood. His stomach gave a lurch. Whose blood could that be? Surely Voldemort wouldn't have grown so boastful that he would dare drink his…

"Did you kill Draco?" he asked abruptly.

The dark lord's eyes shoot open in awe at Lucius. "Kill him? Where does that idea comes from?" For a second, he observed Lucius' untouched drink. "I wonder what bothers me more: that you would think me to have such vulgar taste in revenge, or to be so stupid as to kill a potential ally."

Old habits made Lucius flinch at the reproach.

"No, this isn't you son's blood," Voldemort went on, "Had I had any advantage over him, I'd have used it to gain him to my cause, not to kill him. But you said you wanted information; I assume you'd like to learn about the circumstances which led to Draco's death." A smirk marked his lips at the word and Lucius' teeth grinded at the reaction. No man should smile at his son's disappearance.

"Indeed," he nearly spat.

Voldemort chuckled at his tone, which enraged Lucius even more, and their glasses disappeared in small pops.

"My brave servants achieved victory today," Voldemort drawled, "I am feeling magnanimous, so I am proposing you an exchange. I will give you the information you seek but first… I want your son's wand."

His wand? What could he do with it? Draco hadn't touched it since the day he became a demonist. Lucius screwed his eyes. "Why wouldn't you send your 'brave servants' to retrieve it, wherever it is?" He drawled, "I assume you don't need a traitor like me for such a nugatory task."

Voldemort laughed darkly. "I wouldn't, if not for the fact that this wand is inside Dumbledore's office and the room is guarded by the old fool's spells. None of them will be able to both break in and search for the wand before the aurors arrive."

"And I would?"

"Of course Lucius… I am quite certain the old man gave you his password, I could tell you the aurors' one and if you link yourself to your son's magic, you will immediately know the emplacement of the wand. Did you already forget? It was you that showed me that bit of magic… The magic of the purebloods. And if you are quick enough, you will be able to escape and bring me my trophy. Then you will have the information you seek."

"If you do not kill me the moment I arrive."

A dark laugh erupted in the room. "Oh, don't fear for your life! I have forgiven you your treachery. I was sole to blame, I should have remembered that only the Erkas heir can obtain faith from the Malfoys." And that acceptance of responsibility, that little smile twisting his lips, that flame of intelligence and control in the dark lord's eyes were more frightening than all the unforgivables of the world.

Voldemort watched the man's fists clench with amusement. Only two people in this world knew what had transpired that fateful night. But Snape was half-dead in Saint-Mungo's, watched by an army of aurors, and the dark lord remained sole detentor of the truth. Lucius would accept the bargain, because he yearned for the truth and no other could give it to him.

He smirked. Somewhere, far away, he could still feel his other self, that of the young Tom Riddle, this that had decided to serve the demonist. But a week ago, a change had occurred: the aura had been modified. It remained his younger counterpart, but something… the energy scales had shifted. How though? What could the Malfoy boy have done to the spirit? That was why he needed that wand. The residual magic it contained could, with some chance, allow him to track the manifestations of the boy's powers. It would lead him directly to ghost Riddle.

As he had foreseen, the high lord nodded his acceptance with reluctance and got up.

"By the way, Lucius, you'll have to walk," Voldemort drawled as Lucius was leaving the room. "The windows in the office can only open from the inside."

Lucius froze and his hand grasped the handle at the surprise. Why would the dark lord mention that? Could it be possible that the man knew? Narcissa herself, his wife of twenty years had never discovered it his secret. How could he have known? Lucius tensed at that new bit of knowledge. The dark lord had a way to gain information that he didn't suspect. How else could he have learnt what Dumbledore himself had never felt?

o-

"I'm sorry about your loss."

After the opening of Draco's will, the auror captain had been proposed a drink in Hogwarts. Under the suspicious and slightly betrayed gaze of Minerva, the two men had made their way to the DADA professor's rooms. Remus turned from the cupboard in his antechamber to look at his past friend, his past enemy, his he-didn't-really-knew-what-anymore. If Jonathan Dars' stance revealed anything, it was regret, and shame.

"Thank you," he murmured in a quiet breath. And watching the man standing awkwardly in his cold and base Hogwarts room, Remus realised this was the closest to repentant he had ever seen Jonathan. His grief was genuine, if a little late.

Silence rose up once more as Remus' eyes couldn't leave Dars'. He would have thought the auror to be celebrating, or at the very least joyous at the arrest of who had seemed to be his worse enemy: Severus Snape. But the sight confuted his theory. The price to pay, even the death of a demonist child, had obviously been too much.

"Could you answer a question?"

Dars raised his eyes from the bare stone floor to look at the werewolf. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help chuckling at the obvious certainty the professor had that he was going to be refused the information he sought. "Well," he drawled, "I suppose I could give it a try."

"Why were you sent at Malfoy Manor for the opening of Draco's testament? Why not a lawyer?"

Jonathan observed his old employee. Trust Remus to point out the key issue. He sighed. "I doubt Fudge will like learning that I informed you… But if I don't, you'll probably rummage about till you learn the truth, thus putting yourself in danger. And damn my weaknesses, but I really don't want to have to take you to Azkaban… So keep this information quiet."

He waited till Remus had nodded his consent to their implicit contract. "They wanted to nullify the testament. A year ago, rumours flew in Knockturn Alley how the Malfoys had laid hands on a very powerful book, one that could change the wizards' history. At the time, the father was in Azkaban so it could only have been the making of his son. By the goblin's database, we obtained access to the content of the will and knew that he'd try to bequeath it to someone. We just needed to learn who. I was sent to intercept the book and contain the dark magic in it. But the boy apparently thought of us and got prudent."

No one would dare touch a legacy of Merlin. Remus ran his hand through his greying hair to hide his moistening eyes and awkward smile. "Yes, Draco was like that. He always had a back-up plan for everything. Even… especially his own disappearance."

Dars' head shot up at the misplaced word and Remus caught a glimpse of renewed regret, and some pity in the captain's eyes.

"What are you going to do about the coffer?" he asked to avoid the topic.

Dars sighed, poising his answer. "Well… We will follow the rules I suppose, even if there is only one precedent to take example of. Not carrying out a legacy of Merlin would be… a sacrilege. About the announce to the population, it has probably already reached the newspapers and will be all over the country, if not the world, by tomorrow morning."

"The coffer will be presented to the suitors in Malfoy Manor, I suppose?"

"Probably. Fudge is certainly trying to have it taken to the Ministry, but I hightly doubt the Goblins will agree to let go of such an assignment."

It was no wonder. In a thousand years, never had a legacy of Merlin been called to. This fact only proved Draco's determination to go through with his scheme, whatever it could be.

Remus was strangely reminded of some events, seven months ago, at the beginning of his odd friendship with the young man; the Slytherin had disappeared from Hogwarts alongside with his ill and convicted father, leaving as only lead to his hide-out: a phial. But, at the time, Severus and Dumbledore had been at his side and prevented him from breaking down at the lack of news, and Remus suddenly felt very lonely in his despair.

Was this coffer the new phial chosen by Draco, or wasn't it linked at all to his disappearance? And who had the demonist entrusted it to? Who had he considered worthy of that book? A work of great power, had said Jonathan… No, Remus could see no other than Snape who Draco would have envisioned bequeathing such present.

"Jonathan… About Severus…"

But Remus couldn't achieve that all of the captain's remorse morphed into repressed anger, deep hatred for a half-dead man.

"He was guilty," the auror hissed in a breathed menace, "And will remain guarded in Saint-Mungo's till sent to Azkaban! Don't try to change my mind, Remus, this isn't opened to discussion!"

Remus observed Dars with carefully disguised suspicion and unhidden compassion, a flame of comprehension gliding along his mind. "Jonathan," he murmured in a breath, "where is Etherea?"

An unexpected and bitter expression abruptly twisted the auror's features, making him look cruel even. "She disappeared two months ago," he spat, the harsh tone of his voice contradicting the worry that transpired in his pupils. "Nobody has seen her ever since."

Remus was stricken by the information. Etherea? Disappeared? "But… Did she say something? About wanting to go, or someone bothering her?"

"Yes," Dars chuckled, and the sound was so full of darkness that the werewolf's backbone shuddered from its vibrations, "Yes, she said something. She did even better: she made a prediction! And do you know what happens to seers, Remus?" He was nearly shouting, his breath coming out in saccades, his speak frantic with torment and wrath. "They're captured by You-Know-Who, tortured into working for him, till they break from the lack of spiritual peace! But I won't let that happen to my daughter!"

"That's what you wanted Severus for?" Remus gasped, horrified, "You-Know-Who's revenge against Etherea's life? You're insane! You'll send him to his death!"

"He destroyed my family," the auror hissed darkly, "His debt is long overdue. It's time to pay."

"But what are you talking about?" Remus cried out. "Severus never came near your family!"

Jonathan's rabid laugh echoed on the bare walls of the room, reverberating to the werewolf's ears in as many insane jeers, as the auror was sliding toward him, pinning him to his chair by the sheer force of his frantic look.

"Who do you think, Remus, who do you think killed my wife?!"

o-

Harry advanced in the corridors in a hushed whisper, his feet barely skimming the stone floor, his hands empty. He had taken neither cape nor map. He wouldn't need them: all these years of ferreting about had taught him prudence and inner caution. He knew the castle better than any other save Dumbledore. Certainly the Headmaster had, in his own time, also been a wanderer of Hogwarts.

Along with the chieftain's responsibility of the Order of the Phoenix, the old wizard had bequeathed Harry with everything that had made him the ruler of the school. Through cat's agility and ghost's inexistence; he had finally become part of the castle. And now he had to protect it, with his life if need be. His plan was shaky to the least, but had small chances of working, if he played his game well…

As he turned a corner, heading for Moony's room, his senses screamed at the presence of an intruder in his corridor. He perceived more than heard the faint rustling of cloth on stone, and immediately flattened against a wall, hidden behind a grand armour.

His heart remained calm as a darkly hooded figure passed him, not noticing his presence. In a breath, Harry took out his wand and soundlessly cast a chameleon charm on himself, then took to following the trespasser.

They walked toward the centre of Hogwarts, till the suspected death-eater stood in front of the gargoyle, the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

'Surely he knows that the door is protected by the Ministry's wards, just like every door in the castle? He won't be able to enter without them bouncing on him,' Harry knitted his brow and advanced some steps nearer to get a better view of the man. But his face was well protected from curious eyes and the Gryffindor could guess nothing of the intruder's secret identity.

The man leaned against the gargoyle and whispered in his ears words that Harry couldn't fathom. To his surprise, the carved roc moved slowly, much more slowly than he was used, and started revealing the opening to the stairs… till the aurors' alarm resounded in the corridor.

The intruder jumped at the deafening noise and looked around. Yells, from the aurors probably, reached them and the man dashed inside the office, Harry on his heels, and the Gargoyle closed behind them.

'How did he open the door? It was supposed to be barred… If he knows the password, then it means Voldemort has a spy among the head aurors…'

The intruder dived to the desk and plunged his hand in a drawer, retrieving a red velvet box. Harry prepared to petrificate the man, now that he knew what he had been coming for but just as he raised his wand, words on the end of his tongue…

A section of library blasted from the wall, exposing a secret passage and someone the Gryffindor never would have expected. Madam Trelawney was standing in front of them, head high and eyes white. The masked man took a step backward and fumbled with the box, attempting to open it with one hand while his right pointed his own wand at the professor.

"Stupefy!" he hexed and a jet of light flow out of his wand's tip toward the woman, only to be repelled by moving shadows.

Harry gaped at the sight. 'What? But that's demonic magic! Where is…'

He couldn't finish his thought as black clouds entered Trelawney's white pupils, darkening them till two ebony marbles fixed on him, and a cavernous voice rose in the office.

"Dash is rising in the dark, following his lord's orders." Noises of hammer spells against the office's door. "The Chosen will conduct the chars of fire, backed by Sand and Puppeteer." A door burst open. "Joined, the Unholy faction will allow the Survivor to achieve his first battle." The aurors were rushing in the stairs. Trelawney silently retreated in the secret passage and the library started closing behind her.

Abandoning the opening of the box, the death-eater opened the window, morphed in a hawk, the package clutched in his claws, and jumped.

'No!' Harry mentally screamed, 'Accio box!' The container flew from the bird's talons into his hands and without pausing, the Gryffindor ran through the closing passage.

The moment the aurors penetrated the room, a dull sound echoed in the corridor, signalling the sealing of the library. But they had eyes only for the gaping window and the bird flying too far away from them.

o-

More than a year ago, as Remus still was mourning the loss of his best friend, he had gone to the Headmaster for answers. He had doubted his colleagues, but most importantly, he had doubted his own ability to resist the attraction of darkness. He had needed to know what had been strong enough to bring back to light a man of the night, a man who hated all brightness.

"Can you imagine Severus killing?" Dumbledore had inquired, twinkles in his eyes.

Remus hadn't answered, but his silence had been enough for the headmaster and their conversation had ended there. No, for all the man's knowledge in dark arts, despite the deep hatred that ruled Severus' life, Remus couldn't bring himself to think that the Potions Master would take pleasure in death. Harassment amused the man, that he knew, though…

Can you imagine Severus killing? No he couldn't, but Severus had killed.

Remus knew that the man wasn't one to bring death, but had little Severus known that when he had joined the death-eaters? Probably not. He had rushed in, full of hatred and revenge for Gryffindors, ready to change the face of the world, till reality had struck his illusions. Severus had killed, and that single moment when his hex had lightened the woman's face, when her body had fallen on the floor, its life taken away, his world had taken a new turn.

"Why did you arrest Dumbledore?" Remus had asked Jonathan. He hadn't needed to, the answer jumped to mind: Fudge had ordered it.

'Harry is only a child, and you ask the impossible of him,' Remus thought, 'You wish him to fight against an army and its lord alone, after you took away his mentor from him. How do you want him to succeed, or even to want to?'

An alarm echoed suddenly in the castle, making the old stones vibrate under the intensity of the sound. Remus jumped from his bed in a dash, passed on his robe and ran to the door. But as he went to get out, dark figures invaded his room, surrounding him.

"Hello again Lupin."

Remus blanched as the too familiar voice. "Lestrange…"

"You have something we need," Bellatrix drawled, advancing on the professor. She nodded at another face-covered death-eater but before Remus could wonder what that code was about, strong arms had caught him from behind, placated him against a wall and taken away his wand.

A twisted smile marred Bellatrix' features as she took out a knife and a phial from her robes. "And what we need, we take." In a swift move, she grasped his hand and slashed his palm, ignoring the whimper of surprise and pain and letting blood flow in the vial.

"Thank you very much for your donation, Mr Lupin," she said in a mad voice, "We will make good use of it."

"Why can't we kill him here?" Another asked. "That'd serve the aurors well and we'd be rid of him."

"No, the lord ordered to let him live. But…" She sniggered, "He didn't say not to get some fun. Crucio!"

Remus fell back on the floor in a hard land, swirling, pain flooding through him in waves as he desperately tried to keep his lips closed.

"Come on Lupin, a little scream and I'll let you go." Death-eaters laughed.

"Go t… hell!"

Bellatrix gritted her teeth at the man's Gryffindorness. "Lupin, I'd never have you pegged as a masochist," she spat, "But after all, you are a werewolf. Scream for me, little lamb."

Remus squirmed on the floor with pain, as the bones in his arms were slowly dislocating under the pressure, that same awful pressure of his morphing. He pressed his arms against each other to dampen the nerve connections, as he felt his muscles straining to accommodate. And above him, the death-eaters were laughing at the half-man and at his extending arms.

Tears fell on Remus' cheeks but the dismembering hex didn't stop. A tear of hope in a sea of despair. And far, far away, he heard music. A soft melody invaded his ears and lulled his mind away from the pain, from his tormentors, to a place of lightly clouds and warmth.

Bellatric cursed when the werewolf stopped trembling on the floor and intensified her curse. Pain shot anew in Remus' body and he yelped at his arms being extended to their limit. The music was fading away, leaving him in his world of suffering when invisible hands clutched at his shoulders and pulled him, forcing his soul back into heaven. Flames of immortal love flooded through him and he fainted.

o-

"Open it! Maybe we'll understand better when we know what's inside."

Assessing the truth in Hermione's remark, Harry looked around to foolishly check no student but the two of them remained in the Head Girl's private room and lifted the lid of the velvet box.

"It's empty…"

They looked at each other. "Why would Dumbledore keep an empty box in his office?" Harry asked.

"Who knows?" Hermione wondered. "Look, it didn't contain just anything. That's the form of a wand, there, in the velvet. And…" She reached a piece of parchment that was stuck on the inside of the lid.

"Headmaster," she read, "I would be most indebted to you if you could send my wand to these people we talked about that other day, and most particularly to a friend of mine: Reyan Peter Shemars. Indeed, should my fears come to pass, I have a feeling that only there could this asset be used to its full potential. With my most sincere gratitude, Draco Malfoy."

"What was Dumbledore doing with Malfoy's wand?" Harry asked, eyebrows hooked.

"Demonists needn't wands. Their energy is different, they can control it by hand," she recited, "He had probably given it to Dumbledore to safekeeping."

"But why the headmaster? Why not take it to Gringotts?"

"We already deducted he knew something was going to happen. He must have feared that the Malfoys' assets would be frozen. And he was right. His father was declared an outcast once again, and Narcissa Malfoy will certainly authorize a search of the Manor and their vaults to save face."

Harry remained pensive. "What about the death-eaters hidden in the Manor?"

"I do not know, Harry. It all depends on her own plans. Alas, if we try to communicate with her, our mail will most surely be intercepted. We will have to trust her on this."

"I don't know. I don't like it. When it came to trusting Malfoy, it was quite easy. He hates me and I hate him. I know where I stand. But with her, particularly now that ferret's dead, I'd rather be careful. Anyway, I'd also like to know who is that Shemars, and why Malfoy wanted him to have his wand."

"That…" Hermione sighed. "What about that prediction you talked about. What did it say?"

"I'm not sure. I don't remember everything. Something about Dash raising and a Chosen, Sand and another one I don't remember all coming together. The last sentence, though, said that the Unholy Faction would allow the Survivor to achieve his first battle. That, I believe, is about me."

"Survivor?" Hermione repeated, snorting. "Yes, the odds are for you on this. It'd have helped to know the rest," she reproached his lack of memory.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, "To remember that thing wasn't my priority at the moment!"

"I know, Harry, I know," she placated his outburst," Still you said the death-eater had heard the totality of it too, so there're chances Voldemort will learn of it. Dash and Sand could be just anyone, but Chosen doubtlessly is someone important. I wonder if they all could be this Unholy Faction."

"But why call it Unholy?"

"Unholy as in profane, or evil. Who do we know that could be taxed of such a surname, Harry?"

"He's dead, Hermione."

Hermione screwed her eyes at the remark. "That's what they say… I may be wrong but it's starting to be many coincidences. Malfoy knew an enemy was coming. He took precautions for everything he owed and entrusted missions to people he hated: me, Ginny, Dumbledore, that guy Shemars and Merlin only knows who else. But he wouldn't have thought of protecting himself?"

Harry hated himself for not thinking of it sooner. Him who had considered Malfoy the most self-conservative boy of the world, how could he have imagined a second that they could be rid of him? To say he had shed a tear for the guy… "But whose body was it then? And where is Malfoy?"

"Who knows?" shrugged Hermione, "Maybe that of the guy who attacked him. As to where he is… But I found suspicious that Moony wouldn't have left to avenge him. I think he knows something. Maybe Dars too."

Harry smirked in remembrance of the last time Malfoy had vanished. He could still hear the Slytherin as they had met in Salazar's lab. _"Personal revenge. You don't mind, do you?"_ That voice, that bloody haughty accent, that which spoke spells as orders… "Hermione, I think I know who was in Dumbledore's office. It's…"

He stopped abruptly as a board of floor cracked just outside the room. A second later, the door opened suddenly, a shadow entered and it close back.

"You know students aren't allowed out of their rooms after ten?" the shadowed figure said.

"Hello to you too Justin," Hermione greeted blandly. "What do we owe the visit to?"

There was silence as the three students observed one another, judging their intentions. Then the Head-Boy walked to the bed the two Gryffindors were sitting on and extended his hand to them.

"The Hufflepuffs are organising a resistance against the Ministry. I propose you an alliance."

o-

"I need to see Lupin! Are you daft or simply stupid?!"

"I'm sorry sir, but I repeat it, we cannot allow you to enter the school."

A young auror was desperately trying to contain the murderous-feeling wizard from walking on school grounds. When the alarm had echoed in the castle, his orders had been quite clear. To prevent anybody from getting out or in.

"Then call Dars!" Sirius screamed.

"The commander is occupied at the crime's scene."

"Listen chap," the animagus reigned on his legendary temper, "Last I saw it, they seemed quite buddy-buddy. What will he say when he learns that his friend got killed because you didn't let me warn him about the danger."

The auror gulped, hesitating. The man was Sirius Black! Sure, he had been proven innocent but at this moment, he looked quite dangerous. Could he let him enter? What if it was a trick? At the same time, what if he was saying the truth? At length, he raised his wand toward the castle and called for a patronus.

Sirius watched with uncertainty and impatience the small owl making its way toward the window of Dumbledore's office. Wait… Dumbledore's office… Why was it opened and lightened?

"What happened?" he asked in a breath, his mind already playing out the worse events. But the auror silently shook his head, not authorised to answer. "The school was attacked? That's it!" Sirius screamed out, "Bugger permission, I need to see Remus!" and he ran toward the entrance, dodging the auror's stupefying hex.

He barely registered a scream of alert behind him as he penetrated the heavily guarded place, his legs carrying him through the corridors, each step bringing more fear into his frenzy mind. He turned one more corner, catching sight of Moony's door. It was closed. Could he have come soon enough to avoid the catastrophe? He ran toward it, needing to see his friend for himself… and fell flat on his face, a body-binding curse keeping him from moving.

"He's here!" a voice screamed. "I caught him!"

Sirius heard steps coming toward him, but what frightened him was that, despite the noise in the corridor, the door hadn't opened. Could Remus have been out tonight? Could he have been with the aurors in Dumbledore's office?

"Black! What are you doing here?" growled the auror captain.

Sirius raised his head the best he could to look at Dars in the eyes. "Where is Remus? Is he with you?"

But the auror frowned. "No, I left him some hours ago. Why?"

"Unbind me! He's in danger!"

"What…" Jonathan scarcely looked at the ex-convict when releasing him from the spell, as he was already running for the door. He laid his hand on the handle and pressed. "It's opened," he murmured, suddenly frightened for his friend.

Sirius barged the door opened, passed Dars and immediately saw the lying form on the floor. "Remus!"

The man wasn't moving. "He's still breathing and… apart from that gash in his hand," Sirius added after a time, "he seems just unconscious. " Remus had been attacked but he was fine, and that was the most important for the moment.

"Black…" a voice called behind his back. He turned to discover Dars, looking with fright at the floor. "What happened here?"

Sirius scanned the room and froze. A circle of scorched and strangely deformed stone was surrounding Remus. The ground wasn't flat as its usual but dented in regular and circular waves, as if… as if the stone had been recast. "But what could be strong enough to molten rock?"

"Not only rock, everything is burnt," Dars said, picking up a wood stick, whose end was precisely charred. "I believe that was a chair leg some hours ago."

"Some sort of fire wall maybe…"

"Could you take him to the Infirmary? I'll call for a curse-breaker. Hopefully we'll learn more about the spell which did that."

o-

The creamy-coloured hawk fought beak and claws against the bars of his tight and limited cage, his piercing calls amusing his captors.

"Already back Lucius?" Voldemort drawled, twisting his hand through the iron bars that kept the traitor from morphing back. "You already realised I sent Avery to keep an eye on you. He was to stop you from running from me after escaping the aurors. I guess it was most needed." He petted the bird, amused when it tried to nip his fingers off. "But I see you lack some important element. Where is my wand, Malfoy?"

When the dark lord called his favourite by their last names, it usually meant bad news for them. The hawk raised its head toward the dark lord, a funny expression of his face as Lucius' mind opened. 'Potter took it from me?' he mentally proposed.

"Really?" Voldemort hooked an eyebrow. "What a feeble excuse Lucius. You disappoint me."

'If you wanted the job better done, you should have sent your little slaves!' Lucius snarled.

"Don't test my patience Lucius," Voldemort retreated his hand, "I may not punish the way I used to, but don't doubt the accuracy of my spells. You may not have been as useful as I expected, but you remain a valuable bargaining chip. Be certain I won't allow you to escape alive."

And Lucius wasn't fool enough to believe the threat empty. 'Who killed my son?' he asked.

"Who do you think could have killed the Shadows' Chosen?" Voldemort snorted, revealed sharp teeth, "As if the Unholy Gods would have allowed it to happen. No Lucius, you handed yourself over for nothing, for no-one killed your son."

They were interrupted by the door's opening and Lestrange's entrance.

Lucius flinched at the sight of her. Her clothes were singed black, blood leaking from charred wounds. Her hair had burnt to the core, and half of her face had been scorched, completely disfiguring her.

"I notice you didn't follow my orders Bella," Voldemort reproached, his patience thinning at so many disrespect in a single night. "I had told you not to kill the werewolf."

"He isn't dead!" she spat, her voice distorted by the burns that marred her mouth, "Look at what that bloody atrocity did to me!"

"None that you didn't deserve, Lestrange," he menaced and his tone made her squirm under the dark eyes, "I had given you an order which you didn't follow. I told you to enter Hogwarts and to collect a sample of his blood, yet you allowed your own lechery for pain to run your mind in your place, and look at the results! It's obvious you don't have the brain required to think by yourself, that's what my orders are for: to replace the intelligence you lack. Do you even know what occurred back there?"

Bellatrix glared at her lord but, thankfully for her, she swallowed back her humiliation. "No, my lord."

"No what, Bella?"

"No, I don't know how the werewolf could fight me off like that… my lord."

"Then I will explain, so that the next time you disobey me, I can hope for more sense in your actions! Because for a little time, you forgot who was Remus Lupin, that man you thought you could torture to your heart's extent! Not the Gryffindor, not the werewolf, not even the new lord of Blowin Hillock," Voldemort ignored Lucius' gasp, "but the man who earned Draco Malfoy's trust and love, the only man left in this world to possess the soul's stone of a demonist."

Bellatrix screwed her eyes in incomprehension.

"And that little bit of stone makes him more powerful, dangerous and precious than all of you together! So next time you go into a frenzy," the dark lord hissed at her, "Remember that I would exchange your life for this pebble."

"But master," Bellatrix whined "Why couldn't we take it from him then?"

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his eyes. Was this how Dumbledore felt? Surrounded by imbeciles? Was this why he never revealed too much to his minions? "Shut it Bella. Your stupidity is tiring. Did you at least succeed in bringing me the blood?"

"I did my lord!" She handed him the phial over, self-pride renewed in her eyes.

Voldemort contemplated the dark red liquid. "This should excuse your misdemeanour Bella. And thanks to this," he grinned darkly at Lucius, "I will get a servant back."

o-

When he heard several pairs of steps in the corridor, Blaise tightened his hold over Theodore and carried him into a corner of the cell, hiding him in the shadows. He was worried about the younger Slytherin. Some years ago, Blaise had discovered that Theodore had been deadly ill when he was young, and his malady tended to have repercussions. On the exterior, he looked healthy, but his constitution was weaker than that of the others. And the virus was still roaming Azkaban's corridors. Blaise was attentive, he had noticed his friend's respiration slowly fattening. It wasn't life-frightening yet, but it could quickly become bothersome for him to breathe if he wasn't cured. He would need help soon.

Nott fluttered his pupils, awakening from his peaceful rest in his protector's arms. "What's happening?" he inquired in a small voice.

"Aurors are coming. Fake sleeping, I'll take care of them."

Theodore nodded faintly, his fears taking the best of him. What did the aurors want? To interrogate them? But they knew nothing! They were just children! Tears welled in his eyes. Yeah… Children with a dark mark on their arms… Children who had taken a life to be recognised…

When the cell's door opened and a stream of artificial light flooded in, Blaise arrogantly walked toward the door, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Good evening, lieutenant Mad-Eye," he drawled.

The auror growled and crutched the youth's arm in his large hand. "Smile while you can, boy. You're to be interrogated."

"Really lieutenant?" Blaise played a false frightened pout on his lips, "Why me, I am innocent," he whispered tearfully.

"When you play the cocky cock, be prepared to take the rap for the others." And Moody pulled the young man out of his cell, never looking back to notice the hiding figure in the corner.

Two hours later.

"Still don't want to talk?"

Blaise spit blood on the floor before turning on Mad-Eye. "But we have been talking for hours now, lieutenant." And talking there had been. He had told them about everything: from his grades to the weather, passing by the horrible life conditions in this prison.

Slap!

The sound echoed in the small room for the hundredth time. "I'm getting tired of this game, child." And his hand was starting to hurt from the numerous smacks that seemed to have no effect of that boy.

"Funny, that was my line of thought too."

Mad-Eye observed the young man in front of him. Zabini had been tied to that chair for two hours now but showed no sign of discomfort. His face was mottled purple, marred by bruises but he never cried. His teeth were dislocating from the blows but he still taunted them.

His sight was distracted by the lying bottle of Veritaserum on a table. They had tried that too, but the boy had gone on rambling about the humidity in his cell. It was bad. If death-eaters had found out a way to counter the potion, the aurors would pass by a lot of information, some of it crucial. They needed another tactic, but intimidation or humiliation would never work on that one either.

"Come on lieutenant, that's not possible, there's a trick," moaned the other auror of the room. That interrogation was getting on his nerves. Nobody could take two hours of blows and not breathe a word.

Moody sighed. "Yeah, maybe. And we don't have time for that. Take him back and bring me his cell-mate." Out of the corner of his good eye, he saw Zabini's face stand still. Automatically, his magical eye turned backward to look at the boy. Imperceptibly, the prisoner's muscles had tensed. A dark smile twisted Mad-Eye lips. At length, they had something to work on. "On a better thought, just bring me the other one."

When the newbie had gone out, Mad-Eye faced his prisoner once again. "I'll make him talk," he sneered as Zabini avoided his look, "Maybe that will stir memories."

Some minutes later, the auror pushed Theodore inside the room and threw him against a wall, earning a whimper.

"We should have started with this one, lieutenant," the auror laughed darkly, "He seems more compliant."

"Yeah," Mad-Eye snickered back. 'But that would have been stupid, rookie,' he thought, 'Nott may talk his heart's out, but he's a little prick. Zabini's the big fish.'

Theodore swirled around to watch the room. He swallowed a whine when seeing the state of his fellow's face, fearing for his own.

"Theodore Nott," drawled Mad-Eye, "I had a run-in with your father a year ago. I hope you sing just as well."

At the mention of his father, the Slytherin seemed to regain strength and he glared at his jailers. "I'll say nothing."

"That's what he said too, before I broke his fingers."

Theodore blanched but didn't back. "Nice lie. You don't have the right to do that."

"Did you look at me kid? I don't care about law." He walked to the death-eater, backing him into his corner, his marble eye staring the boy up and down, "I have power of life and death over you. An accident is so quick to come. You fall in the stairs, break a leg… or two."

The boy's pupils were dark with fear. "Nobody will care about what befalls a filthy death-eater," Mad-Eye buried the knife deeper. "But…" the blue marble was staring hard at the boy, "I guess I won't even have to waste time on you." He waved his wand at Theodore.

Nott hadn't realised the auror had his wand in his hand that already the spell had taken effect and he stood naked in the room. Overwhelmed with fright and shame, his hands hiding his intimate parts, his hard and rapidly breathing torso looked conspicuous in the little room.

The young auror whistled. "Nice ass!" he drawled appreciatively, "I know some guys who'll get lucky tonight."

Theodore desperately looked at Blaise for help, moisture misting up his sight. But the bounded one's eyes were lowered to the ground.

"Yeah, they'll thank us for the treat," Mad-Eye laughed, "Put him with the life-sentenced, cell 32 in the north tower."

"Yes, sir!" the auror grasped Nott's arm, who squirmed under the pressure.

"Oh! Rookie!" Mad-Eye called back when they disappeared through the door.

"Yes sir?"

"Feel free to have some fun on the way!" He designed the white ass, making a suggestive move with his hand.

"Thank you sir."

"No! I'll talk!" Theodore screamed as he was taken away, his voice growing fainter. "I'll tell you everything you want to know! Please! No!" The voice remained constant. They had paused in the hallway. "No! Stop! Don't do that! Please! I'll pay you! I'll do whatever you want!" The boy was sobbing.

"And that poor bloke you killed," a cold voice hissed, "Didn't he ask you to stop? Tell me!"

"Yes… yes she did..."

"A woman even! A woman was begging you! And did you stop?! Huh! Did you stop?" Blaise heard muffled screams as a body was repeatedly hitting the wall. "Did you stop? Tell me!"

But there was no answer. "So, tell me boy, why should I stop?" Again, no answer, "That's what I thought…"

Blaise could only barely hear the pleas. "Please, don't…" Noise of a belt's metallic buckle hitting the floor.

"Stop him…" he murmured.

"What?" Mad-Eye joked, "I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

"I said stop him!" Zabini looked a pale instant at his captor, his eyes pleading, before lowering them again, "You've won, just stop him now."

The old auror grinned with all his bad teeth, a kindle of victory in his pupils. "Rookie!" he called, "Bring the boy back!"

"What sir?" the voice screamed back, "But I was… Rhaa fuck!"

"And remain polite with your superiors."

With relief, Blaise heard again the metallic noise. Theodore had stopped crying our for help. Seconds after, both were reappearing in the room, the auror obviously angry at the interruption, his prisoner too shocked to say anything.

"That was a nasty trick you played on me, sir!" he growled.

Mad-Eye dismissed him. "Going to talk, boy?"

"Yes, but let him come here," Blaise beckoned to Theodore with the head. "He's afraid, won't be of any use to you and you have my oath of a wizard that I won't try to escape with him."

Snorting, the lieutenant grasped Nott and pushed him toward Zabini, making him fall on his knees. Zabini spread open his legs and the terrified child hid between them. "Ask your questions."

"When were you initiated?"

"Twenty-seventh of July."

"Who did you kill?"

"A couple of guys that were walking by."

"Two people?"

"Yes."

"What do you know of Nott's mission in Hogwarts?"

Zabini hesitated in his phrasing before answering. "Theodore is a green-horn. He killed once, for his initiation, and I'm sure he was hurling the moment he stepped home. His mission was harmless. He was to spy of Malfoy and find information that could get him to turn back to our master."

"And what was yours?"

"My master wanted me to supervise incognito his servants. I was to gain Draco's trust and to watch them at the same time, in case one of them decided to desert."

"Did one?"

"Most of them had hesitations, but none of them went all the way."

"Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson. She joined because her father ordered her too. But she won't have the guts to leave now. And Hank Dimedre. He jumped in, thinking he would get revenge on the Gryffindors for treating him of death-eater all these years. He didn't know what to await and is regretting. He's not a killer. "

"And the others?"

"Same global state, but I couldn't learn of their reasons. I didn't have enough time to finish my study. I think it was due to Tom Riddle. They learnt that he was Draco's friend and it bothered their thoughts that young You-Know-Who would join someone that refused his future self."

"Did you denounce them to Voldemort?"

Mad-Eye was surprised when Zabini didn't flinch at the name. "No."

And he was even more shocked at the answer. "Why not?"

"I believe we should all have the right to guidance when we choose our path. Most Slytherins never were taught about good or bad, or what to expect in life. If they feel regrets, I prefer them to switch sides rather than have unwilling ones working with me."

"And do you master agree?"

Zabini snorted. "If he knew, I would be dead already. But I won't change my mind."

"Nott here, did he want to switch?"

"No, but I believe it was because he considered he had more chances to help his father if he remained a follower."

"About Malfoy, did you win his trust?"

"Yes, I think."

"Was he a death-eater?"

"No, but my master wanted him among his ranks."

"Did Malfoy consider the request?"

Again, Zabini hesitated. "I know he refused many times, the first of which was last year, the last a month ago."

"Why would the Malfoy child refuse the dark lord?" His voice screamed tricky question to Blaise. The man had probably already heard of it by Dumbledore. Or… Maybe not the juicy reason…

"He didn't forgive him for letting his father rot in jail. Then he couldn't decently join his lover's enemy."

"Malfoy had a lover? Who?"

"The professor Lupin."

"What?!!!!"

"I said the professor Remus Lupin," Blaise sniggered. It seemed obvious the two men knew each other.

"Lupin was playing fucking buddies with a Malfoy?" Mad-Eye roared.

"Yeah, apparently. But I wouldn't use this term, it looked quite platonic to me."

"And that's why Malfoy refused Voldemort?"

"Yes. You don't seem to realise, lieutenant. Draco truly loved Lupin."

"Well, that!" Moody explained, now more surprised than angry. "Surely the stupidest tale I ever heard. Yet I believe you. That's the sort of imbecilic thing that Lupin would do, get seduced by a kid demonic Malfoy… D'you know what happened the night he was killed?"

"No. I suspected grave matters would occur for Draco had spent that day writing letters, but I didn't know what."

"And Dumbledore. What did he think of it?"

Ah… Another tricky question. "He didn't seem to mind. Draco supported his side, even if he didn't openly join the Order. They were putting up with each other. Dumbledore allowed Draco his liberty at school, and Draco created whatever potions he could need."

"Ok. What do you know of Voldemort's plans?"

"Not much than you. Less attacks, more deaths." He eyed Mad-Eye with amusement. "An army of demonists."

It had the expected effect. "An army…" the aurors repeated in awe. "Where will he find them?"

"He wanted to recruit the young children of his followers and teach them demonic magic. It didn't work."

"Why?"

Blaise sniggered. "Seems like there's a secret the master has yet to learn."

"And that amuses you?"

"Fun resides in difficulty."

"Do you know that secret?"

"No, but Draco did. He may have told it to Lupin or Snape."

"Why did Snape kill Malfoy?"

"I don't think it was him. There must have been someone else in that forest but I don't know who. "

"Any idea who may have information?"

Zabini shrugged his shoulders. "No."

"Ok…" Mad-Eye untied the ropes that were holding his prisoner. "Rookie, take them back. I'll see what I can do with what we gained." He leaned over the young death-eater. "And if I discover you lied…" He petted Theodore's naked shoulders, making the boy whimper in fear and tremble under the callused hand, looking at Blaise with a cruel smile, "I'll fuck your little boyfriend myself, and I'll make you watch while I pound his ass."

Blaise framed his friend in his arms, opening his soul to the auror. "I said only the truth. Whatever you want to know, ask me and I will tell you."

"I'm glad we understand each other, boy. Rookie!"

Back in their cell, Blaise was hugging Theodore on his lap. He had helped the boy dress again and carried him in the corridors. He had hoped till the end that the auror would stop from rape, but was quite certain now that intervening had been the good solution.

"You really believed what you said?" a little voice inquired.

"What about?"

"Changing."

"Yes," he squeezed the body in his arms tighter.

"D'you think they'd give me a second chance?"

"Dumbledore would. They accepted Lucius Malfoy's help, that has to mean something."

"I don't understand… Why do you help me? We should be enemies."

"Should we?"

Theodore snorted. "You're completely insane… You're proud of your mark, I used mine to get information… You should be trying to kill me."

"I doesn't work that way. Besides… You are too handsome to kill."

"I'm straight."

"I know. I won't try anything. I won't think any less either."

"Does it hurt?" the little voice asked again.

"What?"

"Your mark."

"No."

"Can I see it?"

Silence fell. Blaise was still caressing the dark hair, carrying the young head against his heart, feeling his companion's mind calm down slowly. "If you want," he finally answered. And he lifted his sleeve. Theodore observed it a long time, mentally comparing it to his own. It looked quite good on Zabini's tanned arm, he thought, more than on his white skin. His fingers skimmed over the tattoo. The texture was strange, it felt smooth. It was agreeable and… What was?

There was a sort of… stop in the skin, as if… He grazed softly the epidermis, unsticking a thin layer of something. His heart accelerated. What was that? He looked at Blaise but the Slytherin refused to meet his eyes. He pulled harder and soon, the mark had disappeared from his cellmate's arm.

"I'd like an explanation." He didn't know what to think. Blaise was neutral, then on Draco's side, then he revealed a death-eater, and now… Now the mark was false?

"Do you?"

"What side are you on?"

"My own."

"Then why did you come to Azkaban?!" Theodore fought the arms around him. He needed to get out. Who did that guy imagine he was, to say such lies all the time?!

"Because I couldn't let Slytherins get sent there without protection."

"You shit! Let me go!" But Blaise gripped him harder, refusing to release him.

"No! Listen! I said listen to me!!" Zabini grasped Nott's skull in his hands and forced it to face his own. "I am my own master. I will join neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort, but if you want, I can offer you the second chance you seek."

"You lie again!"

"No. Draco left potions if I needed them. We'll escape from here, and I will make your mark disappear."

Nott calmed instantly. "I promised to protect you Theo," reminded Blaise, "Even if that means from Voldemort's wrath, I won't break my promise."

o-

**Saturday, November the 28th**

My right hand reverently holding yours up, my left arm is daintily squeezing your waist in an everlasting embrace. We twirl around, our feet barely skimming the marble of our heaven in as many fairy steps, to a music that fades when confronted to the delicate beatings of your heart. That melody, that immortal lullaby is resounding in my body, conveyed through the stone of my soul that lays embedded in your chest, warmed in the nest of your love. You look at me and I drown in the blueness of your eyes, these endless seas of safety and acceptation, my secret gardens.

My fingers alluringly stroke the small of your back and I rejoice in the shivers that run through you, in the soft colour that flushes your cheeks. Your innocence is refreshing, enlightening my world of darkness and I dance on tiptoe to kiss your forehead, my lips allaying your fears away. This time is only ours, our empyreal carousel. So slowly, we pirouette through bliss and felicity, our path glowing with remnants of our happiness. And I wish nothing more than for this ethereal instant to last an eternity.

But as a content and at ease sigh makes its way up my throat, I notice your eyes dampening, your pupils wavering and my heart stops. Your gentle hands grasp my shoulders with an intensity born in sorrow, and I watch in horror as your sweet lips twist into a painful grimace and your feet take a step back, away from me. My arms reach in a dash and I clutch at you desperately, refusing to let you leave, to allow you to go back to that world which makes you cry.

Stay with me, cub of my dreams, and I will protect you. Look around you, my wolf and see where lays the true power, this link uniting us into one being. Sparks of fire slowly erupt from our bodies, warming up the air, surrounding us with their lecherous and ardent flames. Watch our rapture, my heart, feel the heat of our bond, the passion of our love. Let's give in to the craving. Let's burn together. And my lips touch yours.

When Draco awoke, the sun had so scarcely soared up that, hadn't he been sleeping under the bare sky, he wouldn't have perceived its rays. He snarled at the star, stifling the abuse he dreamed of throwing at that which bothered his sleep. But he couldn't get on with his reproaches, as to get up early had precisely been the reason why he had favoured the hard and rocky ground of the mountains over the sandy couches of the devil's caverns. And hadn't the deity star taken him out of his nightmare?

Silent as a cat, he climbed to a children-sized wooden ladder, heading for the hole he knew held Karnar's lithe sleeping form. His lips curved into an impalpable smile as the imp's body came in sight. Draco crawled in on his hands on knees and sat on the woven mat that softened the rudeness of the hollowed roc.

In a mellow caress, a move so tender and temperate in contradiction to the harshness of his powers, Draco rubbed his child's shoulder as to raise him from his deep sleep. Karnar mewed and purred at the fondling, his mind slowly emerging from his dreams.

"_Do not wake, little one, allow my words to sunk in your reverie,"_ Draco murmured, _"I am going back to the desert to train. In six days, we will leave the mountains. Spend your time with your family and enjoy life as a child."_

He framed the unconscious imp with his arms, allowing the demon to bask in his master's energy, then, in a peaceful and inaudible slither, he left.

o-

At the knock, Hermione raggedly made her failed potion vanish with a flick of her wand. Her eyes stung from the lack of sleep and she didn't have the strength to get up from her chair and open the door. "Enter!" she screamed.

"Am I awakening you?"

Hermione turned toward the newcomer, surprised that it wasn't Harry, whom she had suspected would visit in the morning and she shook her head. "May I help you Ginny?"

The girl smiled sweetly at her. "Indeed."

Hermione sighed. She guessed too well where this conversation was going. "And will I have more of an explanation than last time?"

"Ah Hermione…" Ginny whined, "You know I can't tell you."

"Yes, I know," she sighed again, "I guess this is divine revenge for all the times we kept you in the dark."

The young Gryffindor chuckled, "Yes, you can see it that way. And… I admit I feel certain pleasure in hiding things from the three of you." She winked before her face went serious. "But I don't have much time. I need some of your things again."

"I gathered as much. They're under my bed."

Ginny rummaged through the box and held up her discovery.

"Antidote?" Hermione read with panic the label on the bright blue phial, "Ginny, tell me you're not going to Azkaban!"

The redhead looked her friend in the eye. "You shouldn't mention such things, Hermione. Our times are dangerous and you never know who could be listening. But no, I'm not going to the prison, I am merely giving a hand to an ally of ours in his mission."

'And that ally is going to Azkaban. As you said, Ginny, we live difficult times, I hope you are being careful.'

As she descended the stairs to the Great Hall, Hermione allowed her thoughts to travel back to her sleepless night. After Harry's departure, the prefects had been called to check on all students in their corridor. Apparently, there had been another intrusion in the school that night. Alas, as their usual, the aurors disclosed very little.

Knowing she wouldn't find any sleep after such an action-packed evening, she had decided to put her time to good use, thus trying one of Malfoy's potions. She had chosen a useful and easy one: the energy-reinforcing injection. Half-way through her potion, she had noticed that what she had previously passed as a stain on the parchment was in truth some doodle. Why would Malfoy have scrawled on his recipe? It had appeared strange, but she had dismissed it.

She shouldn't have. The potion finished, she had followed the instructions carefully, it should have been an unmistakable success. Yet it was the wrong colour. So what? Had Malfoy made an error while writing his instructions down?

She had then chosen another recipe: tainting potion. There shouldn't exist easier. Yet, as the potion was getting to its end, there was again a doodle. It wasn't normal. Why would Malfoy make small graffiti on his texts? Unless… She finished the potion quickly. That time, it was the right colour, but the texture was wrong.

That was too much to be a simple coincidence. The scrawl meant something. Draco obviously wished his secrets to remain hidden. She had attempted Scarpin's Revelaspell, but the scroll hadn't moved an inch. That doodle was a special code put in place by Malfoy. But what was its meaning? And where was the point in leaving her the recipes if they were of no use?

It was thus quite irritated she arrived in the Great Hall. And what she saw wasn't to diminish her tension.

Ron and Neville were in the middle of the room, surrounded by a horde of students. "Death-eaters brought dishonour on our school!" her boyfriend was screaming at his audience, "And part of that scum has been sent to Azkaban! But we won't be fooled! There have been two attacks on the school this night! Two! Dumbledore's office was ransacked and a professor was harmed! And why?! Because there are traitors among us!"

Hermione blanched at the speech. What took Ron to be so foolish? "Who would have thought Draco's death would cast Hell on Hogwarts?" she murmured taking a seat near Harry.

"Yes, who would?" The black-haired murmured back.

Hermione went to sigh but the breath was stuck in her throat at the nearly imperceptible smile that played a second on her friend's lips. "Harry, tell me this wasn't your plan."

"What?" he feigned surprise, "Oh no, not at all." But she hadn't spent six years at his side without learning to read his body language.

"Harry," she hissed, dragging him in a corner, "Do you realise what you're doing?"

"Yes," he hissed back, suddenly angry, "I'm making the Ministry think that we're on their side."

"And what will you get, Harry? Access to Azkaban? To Dumbledore? Don't be a fool! There's the virus there, they'll never allow you in! But do you know what is going to happen? The whole student body is going to turn against the Slytherins! It will be a massacre!"

"No! They'll get expelled, we'll just have to make them come back when the situation is settled."

"Harry," she shook her head, "Sometimes I wonder in what world you live. If Slytherins are suspected, they won't be expelled, they'll be sent to Azkaban."

"It's you who's not realistic, Hermione. They can't send children to Azkaban."

"And where did they take the death-eater students, Harry? What do you imagine they're doing to them there? Aurors are interrogating them. And you know what methods they use? Torture, Harry, torture!"

He breathed deeply. "Listen, Hermione. I know we're taking risks but we have to free Dumbledore."

"By sending children to the gallows. Then it makes you just as bad as Voldemort."

Harry's eyes turned dark. "How dare you…"

"Shut up," she silenced him, "Think before you talk. I hope for you that Draco is truly dead, because if he discovers you sacrificed his house to save Dumbledore, he will never forgive our side. Never. And Voldemort will become the last of your worries."

She turned her back on him and walked to Ron with determination. She couldn't let that happen. Draco had trusted them, he had opposed Voldemort to save his family. That sole fact proved Slytherins weren't all as rotten as they were said to be. Hogwarts had been created by four founders, and four houses should always remain. They represented the balance of the human mind. The world needed ambition to survive and evolve.

"We have to hunt them down, to prevent other attacks from occurring!" Ron was going on, leading a growing crowd.

Hermione pursed her lips in anger and prepared to scream when…

"What is happened in here?"

"Mister Black! Professor Lupin!" exclaimed Neville, "We heard you had been attacked."

"Yeah, he…" Sirius started before Remus cut him, violently punching his arm, "He! What are you doing?!"

"I don't need you to ridicule me more than I'm going to be, so shut up." And his glaring eyes left room for no argument to the unaware-looking animagus. Hermione frowned. What game was playing Moony at? Why did he cut off Sirius like that? He had never cared about his reputation before.

"I heard the rumours too," Remus went on, "Really, what gave you that idea?" he asked the students facing him.

"What…" Ron blabbered, "You weren't attacked?"

"No, of course not!" The werewolf shook his head, "My head was hurting and I didn't want to disrupt the aurors guarding the corridors by going to the Infirmary, so I tried to make a Pepperup Potion by myself. I'm afraid my skills in Potions are quite non-existent… My cauldron exploded," he added with a softly ashamed look.

Students sniggered in the Great Hall at the tale. "I always was bad at Potions in school," the DADA teacher said with a smile, "But I never thought that I could get any worse at it. I think it reassured the staff when I told them I didn't touch cauldrons anymore. I should have kept my habits."

Small laughs were openly fusing at the misadventure. Hermione, her, couldn't take her eyes from the incredulous face of Sirius. Remus was going to have difficulties to hold on his lie if the man didn't come to his spirits soon and react.

"But I heard you were speaking about spies?" Moony asked Ron.

"Yes!" Ardour directed the redhead, "We are planning on hunting these bastards of death-eater wannabes!"

Remus remained pensive a second and Hermione wondered how he would react. His own lover had been called such names not so long ago. Why had he broached the subject? And why such an blatant lie about the attack?

"Then hear my advise, children," he said, "I was a friend of James Potter's, one of his best friends." All nodded to a tale they knew too well. "There are always spies around you, but the only one that matters, the only traitor that can really hurt you, is much nearer to you than you think."

The Great Hall fell silent at the warning. "And you will discover that in a war, the one who will betray you won't be one you hate, but one you love, one you put all your trust in, one that knows all of your secrets. And at the moment you need him the most, when you are down, he will strike at you."

Students were starting to look at each other warily. "Remember my words, children. Seek out the spies, the worst of them are probably among you." And he left the Hall.

Hermione hesitated between fainting in disgust and jumping in joy. 'Moony, I understand your intention, and I agree I couldn't have done better myself, but I'm not sure than breaking havoc on the school was a good idea…'

She needed air, to get out of that atmosphere of insanity.

In the gardens, sitting against the Greenhouse's outside wall, she watched the forest, waiting for the time of the reunion to come. The Headmaster McGonagall had called for a staff meeting. Nobody knew why.

She was going to get up when a moving shadow caught her sight at the border of Hogwarts' grounds. She looked around her: no aurors. And suddenly, a young man got out of the forest and she quickly hid behind the moon rose bushes. Who was that? Not a student, assuredly, he looked slightly too old for that.

The young man was watching the grounds warily. What was her surprise when she saw a fellow Gryffindor approach him! What was Neville doing here? The same Neville that had, half an hour ago, been sprouting insults at death-eaters, Slytherins and spies. The two boys talked a moment and Hermione wished she had one of the twins' extensible ears. Then the Gryffindor lifted up his sweater to reveal a book and a blue phial.

Hermione's eyes bulged. Wasn't that the potion Ginny had taken this morning? Suddenly, all seemed clear. 'Ginny girl, tell me you didn't have the same stupid idea as Harry…'

So Neville was helping the duo of girls? Good. The boy would be easier to track that these pests, she thought with a gentle smile. There remained the matter of the stranger. Was this the guy supposed to enter Azkaban? She carved his features in her mind. Where had they recruited him?

Too soon, the boys went their own way and she was forced out of her hiding place. She was already late for the meeting.

o-

The land of Blowin Hillock was older than Hogwarts grounds. The sole level of magic contained in the soil could be enough, if well used, to resist a whole army. If the dark lord gained control of the lands, it could prove disastrous. But Voldemort hadn't. He had just used Lupin's blood, taking advantage of his new and weak connection with the grounds, to enter them, and had ransacked the Manor's chapel.

Few were aware of what that robbery could represent. Sirius had vaguely explained to the aurors that Blowin Hillock's church was said, in legends, to be a place of worship for the Malfoys. None but the heirs of the family had even been authorised in it, and it was very probable that some objects in there would be worth much more than money: power.

Why had Draco bequeathed it to Lupin, then, if it had such an importance to his family? Nobody had the answer. What was certain, however, was that many pureblooded lineages didn't accept the legality of this donation. It was an insult to hand over such a historically important place to a half-blood werewolf. Pity for them, Draco had paid the goblins quite a fortune for them to ensure his will would be respected. They would keep on getting paid as long as its terms wouldn't be enforced. The goblins would never let go.

The altar had been stolen. It was done and it couldn't be changed. So the matter of Blowin Hillock suddenly was of secondary importance to Narcissa. What bothered her now was a fact she had learnt of at the exact same moment as Draco's legacy…

"Did you know Lupin had an affair with my son?" she bitterly asked the animagus.

Due to the imminent staff meeting at Hogwarts and the lack of reasons for his presence, Sirius had been demanded to leave. He had thought he could visit Narcissa but as soon as he had arrived in Malfoy Manor, he has been once more assaulted by his cousin. And with such a matter, even! If look could kill, the glare in her eyes would have destroyed the whole place. It wasn't a question to take lightly.

"Well… I suspected, yes… You didn't know? But nearly all of the staff was suspecting it. From what little I knew, Snape was making chaperone." He said in a lower tone, trying to reject her anger on someone else.

She quelled him with a glance. "Snape?" she hissed, her eyes mad with fury, "Snape knew! How did he dare hide this from me!" Draco had loved that man enough to hide his relation from his parents! A girl, she could have accepted, but a man?!! A man of her age, even more! This, whom she had trusted with her son while he was ill. How did he dare?

Sirius was starting to get angry. This was his friend they were talking about, after all! If Moony had found happiness with the little git, then so be it! "Narcissa!" he screamed as to stop her rambling. "Your son is dead! Can't you let him rest in peace?"

"What…" she looked at him, flabbergasted, "How can you say that… I'm cleaning his memory!"

Black clenched his teeth. Was this the woman he had respected? "By erasing the man he loved from his life?! I loathe to admit it, but your son loved Remus! He loved him enough to go against his whole family and heritage for him! You know why he hid it from you, Narcissa? Do you know? Because he knew you would react like that! He knew you would try to tear him away from Moony! And being a Slytherin, he certainly suspected you would give him an ultimatum: you or him. And remain sure that he hid it for your good, cousin. He didn't want to tell you because he didn't want to hurt you, for he would have chosen Remus."

Narcissa stood against the unexpected outburst, unflinching and unblinking. But Sirius didn't need her to react, her pupils were opened for the world to see. It had been her who had raised Draco. She had taught him to be brave when he feared the monsters under his bed, she had urged him to be strong and to work harder when his father had been angry at his performances, she had so much wanted him to become a powerful man that she had failed to be proud of him when no one showed it.

When he had wanted to know about the stories the books related, would it have been so weakening to read him tales in bed? But Draco had learnt to read and discovered them alone. When he had wished for friends to play with, would it have destroyed their image to accept someone else than Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, who bored him?

She should have noticed something wasn't right when he got aloof with them, preferring his potion texts to their company. But his intelligence had attracted Snape's, a potions' master, attention, and it had sounded so good to narrate at the parties they hold that they hadn't put a stop to it, or tried to damper his passion. And wasn't it that same isolation that had him turned toward the demonic crypt?

Then her son had grown, he had found someone to cuddle with in bed, someone to go to with his deceptions, someone to smile at him when he did good. Her boy had fallen in love and she was starting to fathom that maybe, they weren't without relation to his choice of a mate.

What was she to say?

So she didn't say anything. She just calmly regained her composure, blocked her mind and froze her eyes.

"We need to work on a scheme to free Dumbledore," she announced.

Sirius knew better than to make her notice her change of subjects. His point had been understood. For how long though?

"But if we make him escape it will get worse," he remarked.

"Yes, that's why it needs to be done legally. As for Draco's murder, Lucius' involvement is already improving Dumbledore's situation in the eyes of the population."

Sirius was struck. That was the reason why she had denounced her husband? Malfoy father hadn't truly been guilty? Bloody liars… "It's funny, I'm suddenly realising what manipulating powers the Slytherins truly possess." When he thought of it, he wasn't that astonished. Nothing could surprise him anymore coming from them anyway…

She didn't answer but the feral gleam in her eyes send a cold chill down his spine. He may need to warn Moony again, just in case. But as the thought was going through his mind, he heard a sharp intake of breath and swirled to watch Narcissa. She was eyeing a clock with fright, her eyes distressed, her hands rising to hide her trembling lips. He turned to discover what could make her cold cousin in such a state. Near the fireplace, the grandfather clock had three hands. That of Narcissa was at home, that of Lucius was at work, and that of Draco… that of Draco was past mortal peril. Then why had she…

And he saw it. The hand was moving. The piece of metal went on his course, farther and farther away from mortal peril. It turned, more and more, passed home and stopped on travelling.

He had been wrong. This family would never stop surprising him. But… He suddenly felt strange, as if something was pulling at his heart. Something like…dementors.

He fainted.

**o-**

"As many of you already know," Headmistress McGonagall sighed, "Remus and myself were called yesterday to Malfoy Manor for the burial of late Draco Malfoy." She paused, her eyes downcast, her manners sorrowful as a gloomy stillness settled in the teachers' room. None talked, and none moved as all observed a minute of silence for their student. Minerva waited for the time to be complete before raising her hand to straighten up her glasses, inconspicuously drying off a tear that menaced to roll from her eye.

"During his schooling, we qualified Draco Malfoy of many things, from Satan's spawn to You-Know-Who's sheep. But this last year, he showed us all he could be more than his father's puppet, that he was his own intricate being. And he proved it one last time yesterday, by bequeathing a sum of five hundred and seventy thousand galleons to Hogwarts."

"By Merlin, but that's more that what the school receives in ten years from inscriptions!" Professor Flitwick glowed with surprise and glee for the school's finances that would at last bail out. When Dumbledore had Lucius Malfoy sacked from the board of governors some years back, they had rejoiced that the death-eater would no longer be into the man's clutches, but on another hand, the generous donations of the lord had soon gravely made their absences felt. Added to Dumbledore's growing arguments with the Ministry, the school had been more than once dangerously close to monetarily collapse.

"Indeed," the Headmistress corroborated. "However, Mr Malfoy had others ideas when he wrote his will, and that money serves only the purpose of making us accept some conditions." She took a parchment out from her robes' inside pocket.

"Really, Minerva, whatever he asked for can't be worth that amount of money!" Mrs Sprout exclaimed.

"I don't know myself," McGonagall relented, "We will all be judge, for he let us a letter containing his requests." And she broke the parchment's seal.

"Hogwarts, school of wizards and wizardry, on Tuesday, November the 24th." She couldn't help but pause as the date registered painfully in her mind. This letter had been written no more than three days ago! The day Draco died…

"Headmaster," she went on reading, her heart struck by the person it was addressed to. "If my deepest fears haven't come true and the castle remains standing, as safe as ever, you as its head, then my regrets of having passed away are allayed." She paused a moment, astonished at the feelings the cold Draco Malfoy had put in this last letter. So much warmth, such generosity of spirit. When had the boy started to praise Dumbledore? When had he developed love? "For as I write these words, my heart is pounding at the thought that I could fail to take the fight deep enough in the forest."

Gasps echoed in the staff room. Minerva watched with sadness the clenching hands of a good friend, the tremors that shook his body as he listened to the last words of one he had loved deeply. Though she had never been told, she was scrupulous enough that she had noticed the caring looks the teacher had exchanged with his student. And while she didn't approve, she hadn't tried to take their happiness away from them. She felt sorry for the pain her friend was put through.

"As you must now have understood, yes, I knew that a battle was coming. But you had already realised as much, didn't you? After all, you tried to keep me in the castle. But this was my war to fight. You have your own battles to win, and mine would have killed you. Alas, my absence this day means that I have lost, and I can only pray that Remus and Severus were spared by my enemies."

All eyes turned to the remaining one of the two mentioned. But Remus wasn't looking at anyone. His face was hidden in his hands, and he desperately tried to keep the destroying words out. Why did they keep on reminding him? It wasn't true! That letter had been written days ago, before the battle. Draco could have survived. It wasn't his body that had been scorched. Who would have protected him against Bellatrix that night, if not that child he loved with all his heart? Remus kept a whimper from escaping his lips. Draco was alive. Draco was alive.

"Maybe you could explain that sentence, Mister Lupin," Professor Pitthol, the new transfiguration teacher, spat.

Remus fumbled with the cord around his neck, reaching for the familiar stone and its warmth. 'Stop it!' his mind screamed, 'Stop looking at me! Stop it!'

Feeling his fear, answering his call, the stone vibrated between his fingers, energy merging in the young soul, heating the pebble with a fiery wrath. Who dared rape his mind?

But the man's eyes were still fixed on him. They were burning holes in Remus' hands, forcing their will through his flesh, into his mind.

'Get out! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!' And the soul stone raged, ready to explode in an incensed furnace…

"Mister Pitthol!" Minerva exclaimed, breaking his thoughts, "Remus has nothing to explain, especially to you."

And the probing at his mind stopped. Remus slowly removed his hands from the burning stone and thanked Minerva with a sign of the head. 'Yes Draco, you are alive,' he thought, squeezing the pebble one last time before hiding it under his short. 'Fight for me! Fight for your life and our reunion, as you urged me to fight this night. Fight!'

The headmistress sent a dark look at the occupants of the room, warning them to let the matter rest and went back to her lecture. "But I am certain the only issue you are interested in presently is the condition which will offer you the money I promised. I don't blame you for this. I vaguely studied Hogwarts' finances and I know the school is in dire need of it. That is why half of what I promised is already in Hogwart's vault at Gringotts."

Silence fell as mouths gaped. McGonagall set up her glasses. "That was definitely unexpected," she smirked, "But that brat is still avoiding the subject. Let's see what he has to say for his defence. As for the rest," she read, "Well, there is to be a catch. This is what you all have been waiting for: my requirement. I wish for a student file to be created."

"A student file?" repeated Flitwick, "What is the problem in that?"

"But not any file. The student's name is to remain blank for now. Moreover, he won't have to go through the sorting. He will be a seventh year male Slytherin. I also wish for my grades and points of this year to be transmitted to him. I know this is quite vague but those are the sole pieces of information I will give you. Someday, I hope in less than a month, a young man will come to Hogwarts and present the Malfoy ring. He will give you his name. I thank you for the time you will spend thinking about my proposition. Draco Malfoy."

"Well…" Madame Sprout smirked "After the numerous bribing, it's straight and to the point. Quite like the Malfoys. Straight liars."

"Wait," interrupted the Headmistress, "There is a post-scriptum."

"Oh… Not good that," chuckled Hooch.

Remus shot her a dark look and the flying teacher shrugged an excuse. Hermione frowned. Did they all forget they were talking about a dead man? She suspected he wasn't, but that didn't mean they shouldn't respect his disappearance.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall called, "It is addressed to you."

"Wh… what…" she stuttered, "To me?"

"Indeed, Miss Granger. At least the name calling strongly condone that theory. Know-it-all," she read, "I suspect you are here today? Insects such as you survive everything. I'll give you a thing to do then, it will keep you from your books: transmit a message to Golden Boy, and he'd better understand. Just tell him: For once in your life, humour me Scarhead."

Hermione grunted. That bastard. He'd better not be alive.

"Oh, there is a second post-script."

"What? But what was he doing when he wrote that letter?" Snape's replacement was getting bored.

"Mr Guyther," snapped McGonagall, "I would gladly thank you if you could keep your comments. This is Draco Malfoy's last words to the school. That remark is true for all of you," she glared at the assistance. "It says: Remus, as you know, young Miss Weasley inherited quite a sum. I would like you to assist her in her task. She will need all the help she can gather and you are the only one I trust enough, you that had the strength to persist when I was pushing you away. Also, please, could you announce the legacy of Merlin at dinner? Thank you very much. Take good care of you and don't forget my present."

o-

Draco was running in the sand, his respiration harsh and spasmodic. Hazar, Karnar's father, certainly didn't know how right he had been when telling Draco about a possible gap between his magic and his body. While he could feel the energy running through his veins, his heart was painfully reminding him of its weakness.

Had he never trained? Had he never taken the time to mould his body into something worth? He could remember that world: training. He had trained! Then why didn't it show? Where were the strength and the endurance?

He paused, his breathing erratic, his stomach hurting with pains in his sides. He needed to rest. He felt suddenly grateful for letting Karnar with his parents then sending Hath'Gack away. He had scarcely been out of the mountains, faced with the immensity of the desert, that the magnitude of his task had struck at him. He was going to train physically!

He didn't want a demon at his side, laughing at each of his failed attempts. Not that Hath'Gack would have openly mocked him, no, he wouldn't have dared, but Draco would have felt the fatherly amusement in his soul, and he didn't wish to be forced to support any remark.

Why though? Why was he opposed so fiercely to being witnessed? Had it always been part of his temper? Some of it, he supposed, but the major part of it came from something else, something so strong that the moment it came to his mind, his whole body froze with shame. He had been watched training, that much was clear to him.

And suddenly flashes overcame his brain, carrying that deep and heavy feeling that whatever he did, that no matter how many hours he spent exercising, it would never be enough. Bribes of sentences jumped to his thoughts: "Stand up!", "How could you lose again?!", "You were ridiculed!", "Pitiful!", "No child of mine!", "He's weak and jealous…", "He's nothing without his father…", "Harry is stronger than you will ever be!", "You were beaten by a Mudblood!", "Not worth our time…"

Draco felt his body's eagerness to revel in his anger, his inner desire to let go of the barriers of sanity and fought to keep his bursting heart under control. It was no wonder he had wanted to get out of that world. His face hardened and his teeth gnashed together. His hands were clutched to the point of blood and he roared. They had humiliated him! But never again would he let that happen. He would train so well and so hard, that all would prostrate in front of him!

Shadows erupted under his feet, occluding his presence from the world, and he ran. He ran longer and quicker than he ever had, pushed by the strongest motivator there exists: revenge. He ran through the stony desert and traversed the blasted steppes. He went on running when his legs couldn't carry him anymore, when his heart's beatings burst in his eardrums, when his blood vessels menaced to explode from the pressure, and stopped only when reaching the verdant lands of the Nhijihikati river.

The water was purely limpid, running strongly above rock and sand. Draco kneeled at its border, admiring the multitude of beings that had taken residence in the flood. So much life… He paused a moment, allowing his lungs and muscles some deserved rest, and let his mind be possessed by the moving liquid. The noise was filling his ears and washing away his bad thoughts with its calm and continuous rumble.

Giving in to the calling, he got rid of his sandals, rolled up his pants and plunged his feet into the water. The coolness awoke his nerves endings and he moaned loudly at the lessening of pains he had refused to acknowledge.

'Draco, you're an imbecile,' he admonished, 'Of course you don't run for hours in the desert with only sandals. You'll only end up with bloody feet and a burnt up face… Wait a minute…' He felt around his head, searching for the sear skin. But his was flawless, pure and silky. How could that be? Had the sun no ascendancy over him? He observed his white hands, one would have though such a light skin would suffer strongly from the aster. Had his fire powers somehow protected him?

He would have gone on with his internal interrogations, but linear forms on the earth near him caught his attention. He brushed with his fingers and followed their direction. These were tracks of wheels in the grass. He scrutinised the direction they disappeared in, seeing nothing. They didn't seem old though. Maybe if he followed them…

He slaked his thirst, dismissed his hunger and went on his way.

Some hours later, as the sun was pointing high at what he supposed to be ten o'clock, he was close to reaching tents. When he though of it, he had been quite quick. Some four hours for such distance travelled. And if there was no one to be proud of him, then he would be proud of himself.

The borough was bigger than he had imagined. More than a hundred tents were hammered solidly in the ground, some of the firmest constructions suggesting that the tribe remained in that place for months before moving. Strange caravans made of wood and supported by twisted sticks of stone rested among the tents, carrying all sorts of treasures, silks and seeds.

As Draco was about to penetrate the circle of tents, he was accosted by a soldier. But this time, he was prepared. "My name is Assiir. I am sent by the tribe of Lord Preulk to settle an agreement with the merchants."

The soldier looked curiously at him, probably stricken by the youth of his interlocutor, but otherwise remained silent and Draco was allowed entrance. He had feared a moment that relations had been strained between the two tribes, and his only resort would have been to flee, but he had been overly anxious. Listening to conversations allowed him to learn at least the name of the lord of the place: one Lord Hillirhan.

Draco slithered through tents and caravans, admiring the flow of lights, the jewellery of thousand colours, the delicate fabrics, brighter than he had ever seen. And in the middle of a large crowed square: a man.

"That was the incredible and exciting story of the corporal Thyen!" the man was saying, "Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen, thank you! If someone else would come forward?"

But the listeners were already dispersing.

"Would you like to hear about the heroic feat of arms of Lord Ghythern?" the man asked a lady passing by, but she ignored him.

"Would you enjoy listening to the legends of the misty dragons and their undying island?" he inquired, trying to catch attention.

"I'd like a legend," Draco butted in.

"Oh?" the man's face illuminated, "And would that fine young man have a name I could call him?"

"My name is Assiir, and I come from the tribe of Lord Preulk" Draco repeated.

"Assiir… The Chosen… What a very precious name. What legend would you like to hear, Assiir?"

"The appearance of werewolves."

"Ah! A strange request for a strange young man. This is a story few ask about. Rare are those who remember the existence of the cursed of the First World."

"What can I say?" Draco drawled, and it came to him like a second nature, "I am curious."

The story-teller had a weirdly knowing smile which Draco didn't like. It wouldn't do good for this man to learn too much about him. "However I have nothing to pay you with."

Before it was even voiced, Draco could see disapproving scrawl in the man's eyes like shadows. 'Good,' the wizard-born thought, 'Let's divert him with payment.'

"And why would you come forth, knowing that?"

Draco smirked. "I believe we could come to an arrangement…" Hath'Gack had informed him. In this world where energy was power, he was richer than many. "If only you have an empty pebble?"

Dubious, the story-teller took a small box out of his large and heavy robes, squeezed it against his chest and opened it, keeping its contents well away from Draco's eyes. The care the man displayed when concerned about these pebbles made Draco eager to see.

'These pebbles are sources of power and are worth more than you may imagine.' Hath'Gack had said.

At length, the man handed up a white diamond. It was extremely small, and completely translucent. Draco examined it with attention and curiosity, feeling the pressure of his tiny weight in his palm. So this was what they looked like, these precious pebbles. It took all the talent of an elite to craft these stones into energy containers. This one was empty but given the right amount of energy, it could be filled of that precious commodity.

Draco crushed the pebble in his hand, wanting to hurt, to be certain of the little stone's presence. And his power was slowly materialising around it, creating a barrier of shadow between his skin and the stone. He pushed it, pressing it to penetrate the rough material. And slowly, ever so slowly, he felt his energy being drained into the stone, till the now warm pebble touched again with his palm. He opened it again, to see that the once unblemished pebble was now a dark yellow. He handed it back.

'They use these pebbles to cure injuries. The more you charge it with energy, the better it can heal,' he remembered from his teachings. A yellow pebble would cure a small wound, an orange one would heal a grave injury, a red pebble could allow, if administrated quickly enough, a fatally-wounded person to survive. A black pebble was called a soul holder. It was said to bring back the dead to life; but no one had seen any in decades.

The story-teller took it warily from Draco's hand and examined it. "That was most unusual. Where did you tell you came from?"

"Lord Preulk's tribe."

"Indeed ? You are quite precocious for your age. I've never seen a child strong enough to charge a pebble."

'What?' Draco controlled his panic, 'Bloody demon, couldn't you warn me of that?'

"We all have hidden talents," he drawled, "I've seen my father do it often enough that I just discovered the trick."

The man observed him through screwed up eyes. "Why do I feel surprised that Lord Preulk would allow such a promising child to run the desert alone?"

"It was part of an agreement we made," Draco hissed, his head redressing and his eyes haughtily looking at the curious man, "You don't need to know more. My story, now, if you please."

"Of course," the man finally complied. Since no passer-by seemed interested by the subject, they went to a corner and sat in the sand.

"Every day, the building site of the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle attracted many onlookers. The work of the carpenters, stone-cutters and sculptors was commented with admiration. Young apprentices tried to uncover the secrets of the old companions. Regularly, the aldermen, elected at the municipal council, came in delegation to watch the advance of the work."

"That site had been opened for many years, because a cathedral doesn't get built in only days! For their city, the inhabitants wanted it magnificent, thus they had recruited the most gifted craft workers, sparing no expense. Alas! Months then years passed and the municipality had to deal with other costs. The aldermen kept visiting the site but they couldn't keep on hiding their worry: soon, they would have no money left to pay!"

"At that time, a rich traveller stopped off at the city and took board and lodging at the most comfortable and most expensive inn. His arrival hadn't gone unnoticed: riding proud on a black horse, the stranger was followed by a horseman, dressed in black and whom conversed in a foreign language which no one could identified. His master, without the shadow of an accent, ordered to be served the rarest dishes and to be given the largest room. The innkeepers, paid generously, hastened at his service."

"As every traveller, the stranger didn't miss visiting the building site of the cathedral and took interest in each detail of the future edifice: he discussed with the workers as if he was in the trade, was shown the plans, then, enigmatic, went back to his room without a commentary. Soon, the man was the subject of every conversation of the inhabitants, fascinated by his wealth. Hadn't he declared, the day after his visit to the site, that the cathedral would be the most magnificent building in the world? 'How proud the city's inhabitants should be!' he repeated all the time. In short, no one in the city doubted that the cathedral was essential to his happiness."

"However, for want of money, the aldermen announced the closing of the site. The news provoked consternation among the inhabitants. What could they do? The city was too deeply indebted to go on. A morning, the traveller asked to be heard at the town hall and, in front of the flabbergasted aldermen, he proposed the necessary money to the achievement of the building. A fabulous sum!"

"We will never be able to reimburse you! The aldermen answered, but their eyes were shining with hope."

"There will be no question of repayment, replicated the stranger with a glacial tone. In exchange, I ask only a very small thing: grant me the soul of the first faithful to enter the cathedral. You see, it's nothing!"

"The aldermen had paled with terror: that man was the Devil! It was all clear: his black horse, his frightening horseman, his endless richness! They had to chase him out before it was too late!"

"However, the Devil had spread desire in the inhabitants' hearts and the majority of them was tempted to accept the deal: after all, a soul was little thing. Everybody would make sure it wouldn't be theirs!"

"Thanks to the diabolic money, the construction resumed quickly! During that time, the Devil had left town and was even forgotten…"

"Or rather, the inhabitants had faked forgetting, because the day of the cathedral's so awaited consecration, no faithful accepted to pass the door! A crowd was gathered on the square, immobile. 'The aldermen signed the pact, some murmured, let one of them give his soul to the Devil!'. They were looked at with ire."

"Suddenly, a man split through the crowd: he was carrying a large wooden bag, which hoarse growling came out. With no hesitation, he headed for the entrance of the edifice. 'A mad man! Or a holy man' the inhabitants exclaimed with relief. At the gate, the man opened the door slightly then put down his bag and hit violently his bundle. He exclaimed: 'There for the Devil!' From the square, people only had the time to see a furry tail disappearing in the nave's obscurity. The crowd cheered its joy."

"Under the slender archway of the cathedral, a wolf was moving forward, trembling, prisoner of that stone forest. Coward, the men had offered to the Devil the soul of their worse enemy!"

"But the dead wolf wasn't about to forget the treachery of men. Their races' battle was about food and survival. The man had captured it, so be it, but the two-feet's despicable morality had allowed it to be offered to an enemy. Never should a being stoop that low. And when in front of the angry Devil, the wolf decided to get his revenge."

"The Devil jumped at the opportunity, for he had been mocked and tricked by the mortals. Such affront should be punished! The night after, the moon was shining full and high. The Devil called for Gyuorash's help, the Hayak's god of death then sent back the wolf with the mission to avenge both of them. The wolf travelled to the city, entered it and found the house he sought. It went up the fly of stair to the room. Before the man, heedless of the danger, could fully awake, the wolf had bitten him, released the Hayaks' poison in his blood and escaped back to his new master. It had been avenged: the man who had treacherously handed him over would pay."

"The man recovered quickly from the wound and never could a reason for the wolf's presence in his room. But the next full moon, when night fell, horrible pains shook his body. He thought he was dying and sent for a priest. The two men were left alone. Screams resounded in the house, and to the horrors of his neighbours, soon turned into growls. The militia invested the house and discovered with terror an enormous wolf holding in his jaws the leftovers of the dead priest. They killed the wolf, but not before some of them were bitten."

"Through the next months, deaths and disaster spread through the city, till the Pope came to the cathedral and, after learning of the true story, chastised harshly the inhabitants and explained this was their punishment for accepting the Devil's money. He blessed the city but the werewolves were born, and never went away. It is said they still haunt the First World, human but for three nights of a moon turn, spreading their curse among the mortals."

Draco had listened attentively to the tale. Exactly why he had wanted to hear that story, he didn't know, but the condition of these cursed men had seemed important to his mind. Memories of potion formulas haunted his thoughts. He had attempted to cure that malediction, and given the flaws he detected in the recipes, he had obviously failed. Was this the reason why he needed that knowledge? Certainly, for the simple fact that the curse was born in a Devil's hands modified the steps to follow in the potion.

He was buried in the possibilities these last revelations could bring to his work, when he heard movement around him. From the corner of an eye, he saw a guard, probably a sentinel. The man was smelling the wind. A wrinkle furrowed Draco's brow. When Preulk's clan felt his presence and sent soldiers after him, it was possible that some of Hillirhan's clan had been not far behind.

Draco glanced toward the door, soldiers were dispersing, another one of them that he didn't know also smelling the air. "Behind!" his senses screamed. He turned in a dash. The sentinel that had first noticed his trail was looking at him, a look of surprise in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe the intruder would have dared penetrate his tribe's lands.

Saying goodbye to the storyteller, Draco got up and walked away from the village's centre.

"Stop him!" a screamed order resounded. Immediately, soldiers surrounded Draco, blocking his exit. Swiftly, he untied his large cloth belt and covered his head of it like a turban, leaving only his eyes at exposure. But he knew it was already too much. Their colour would denounce him most surely than any action could. Already, whispers of wizard-born were making their way through the growing crowd.

'Respect comes through fear,' he recited, 'I wished to be called Chosen and I'll prove I deserve the name! But can I fight off a whole tribe…'

"Irs' Shaf!" Another voice exploded with reproach, "Don't crowd our visitor like that."

Draco turned toward the newcomer. He was graced with the vision of two old men. The first was heavily dressed, probably Lord Hillirhan himself. It was the second whom had talked, and his clothing was one Draco had never witnessed previously. There was something in that man's eyes, something that reminded him very unpleasantly of another person, an old man too, one that had looked at him like that sometimes and…

'He's a shaman!' he suddenly realised. But before he could react accordingly and find a way to occlude his soul, searing pain shot at him and he closed his eyes a second, visions surging up. Memories of dolour and hatred, recollections of a time when his thoughts weren't guarded, when men were out to violate his mind. He remembered reading books. Occlude, occlumens, mind shielding, soul closing!

As in a conditioned reflex, he visualised chains around him, breaking his bones, crunching his heart, and at the same time, he could feel the change inside of him. His heart beatings resounded strongly inside of him, as echoing in a closed box. His body was now hermetically sealed.

Complete silence had fallen on the tribe as all observed the intruder whose face remained hidden from them. Breaking the peace a short instant, two people made their way through the crowd to stand at the older men's side. A girl and a boy. The boy slightly older than Draco.

His heart accelerated. The prodding at his mind didn't stop, still tugging at his soul. To add to that danger, apart from the important number, there were many very strong elements among those that now surrounded him. The two sentinels, Hillirhan, the shaman and the two young people, but also some of the soldiers whose positions he stashed in his mind.

"I come toward you with peace," the shaman said, advancing on Draco, "I wish we could talk…"

"Then stop prodding at my soul!" he cut the man in a roar.

The shaman seemed quite surprised at the sound of his voice and remained an instant soundless. "I… I excuse, I didn't imagine you so young…"

'Young? How can he know?' Draco thought with turmoil. 'My voice! He can detect everything coming from me! A body-reader!' The prodding was violent, uncaring of his barriers, hurting his mind. 'Stop it! Get out of my head! Stop it! Stop it!'

"I said stop it!" he screamed again.

The shaman spread out his arms in surrender. "I am not doing anything."

But Draco was too far gone to listen and think. He raged with anger and fear. "Do not take me for a fool." He extended his hand toward the man who quickly took a step back, and called for energy.

But the blast never came as his arm was suddenly wrung down by moving sand. "Don't even think of it," hissed the young man, his hand pointing at Draco.

He tried to step back to free his arm, but his legs were rooted to the ground by more sand. Desperately attempting to keep the fear out of his pupils, he pulled at his legs but they were well and truly stuck. He looked at the young man with hatred. No one would contain him! No one! He was free!

Shadows came out of the ground and slithered the long of his legs, mounted his back and surmounted his head, progressively shaping into bones and skull, taking the form of the dead dragon. The creature stood proudly above him, its empty eyes staring down at the enemy. Its enormous mouth opened and a hoarse and funereal scream came out, making the population flee.

"Huh!" The young woman snorted, "That's all you can do? You're not the only one who can do that." She clasped her hands and the skeleton of a strange animal dug its way out of the ground to stand at her side, its teeth showing as it growled at Draco.

"Kaalan! Kiria! Stop that immediately!" the harsh voice of Hillirhan boomed.

"He was attacking Sinaï!" the rebellious young man protested, not releasing his magical hold.

"Besides, he's not really that strong," commented the young woman with a smirk, "Seems like the legend about the wizard-borns is quite overrated."

They weren't intimidated. At all. They wouldn't back down and let him go. His heart was beating, his breathing shallow. Could he attack? Would they take that as war? Could he defeat a whole tribe? He was strong, and a show-off, but he knew he had limits. With Karnar and Hath'Gack away, it took from him his best strengths. But he couldn't stand and admit defeat like this! His feet and hands were trapped in the ground, and he had only the skeleton of a dragon to protect him from attacks he knew nothing about.

He was painfully aware of it. He had no chance at all. He battled against powers he had never witnessed, had no knowledge of. How could that guy control the sand? Was there a demon for that? And her, there were no shadows around her, only bones. And in his despair he heard it, that voice so cherished and loved, a voice that warmed up his heart for the battle.

"Fight Draco! Fight for us as you urged me to fight this night. Fight!"

He couldn't give up. He had to battle! Under the turban, his eyes shadowed and his pupils turned black. Fire erupted from his skin and leached at the sand.

"No chance pal," sniggered Kaalan, "You won't get rid of me so easily."

"Kaalan, if you do not stop right now, I will rip you of your powers."

"What?" the young man turned toward his father, "You can't!"

But Draco didn't care about the interruption and the tentative of peace. "No chance pal," he sniggered back, "You angered the wrong person. I'm out to kill."

'Come forth, Black! Tom!'

"What?" the shaman choked, 'Who were that? How was it… possible…'

Out of nowhere, coming through the veils of the shadow world, two animals appeared at Draco's side. The large black dog jumped at once on the bonny creature of the woman, his powerful paws attacking the bones. The snake was bigger than any they had ever seen, standing in protection before its master, its yellow eyes staring at their enemies.

"What is this?" The prime sentinel asked in awe, "How many demons does this boy have?" He was certain he had seen an imp some days previous, and felt the presence of a shadow demon. That made four with these two. Was it even possible for someone to control that many minds?

"Kaalan, what did you do…" Sha'Sinaï whispered, his eyes fixed on the enormous creature. To his knowledge, there existed no snake of this stature. "Excuse to him! Now!"

"Let go of the pretence, old man. I'm not interested in his excuses," Draco growled, "He will die for his affront."

The young man boastfully advanced on him, closely followed by his sister and a handful of soldiers, "Yeah? I'd like to see you try! That's what you call demons? These worthless beasts?"

Draco's pupils cut in the middle, a vertical yellow slit slowly opening in his eyes. That one would pay. "Attack!" he hissed at the basilisk, at the same time waving a web of shadows around him.

The snake lashed at his enemies, dispersing them. Soldiers had their swords out, ready to attack the armoured skin. They weren't prepared for the attack. The snake spit poison at the men's faces, catching two of the soldiers, sending them in fits of screaming at the pain of their skin burning out, eaten by the salivary acid.

Draco used the diversion to raise his eyes at the sky. An enormous cloud appeared above them, grounding with fire, overflowing with molten lava, blocking the sun. A rain of fire bolts came down on the village, initiating fires among the tents and wooden caravans, catching the attention of Hillirhan.

The sentinels rushed at the shaman, protecting him from the snake with their bodies, pushing him away from the heat of the scene. The fires were creating shadows everywhere around them, and Draco fought over their control with the girl, finally sending his protective barrier and fire cloud on her, ordering Tom to concentrate on the shaman and remaining soldiers to keep them from intervening.

Kaalan hadn't moved. Rage was shining in his eyes at the intruder who dared attack his tribe, his family! His left hand retrieved a sabre from his belt while his right still held control over the sandy ropes, using all of his energy to constrict the wizard-born's moves. But the intruder had stopped fighting against the physical restrictions, his eyes closed as he concentrated on a fire incantation. Kaalan walked to him, careful of the fire which should be coming but didn't seem to appear. He was so near he could touch him. He raised his blade and struck.

And met with air. Draco had moved at the last moment. The sand-master was looking at him with astonishment, realising that his prey had moved, that the sand wasn't holding him anymore. He called for more to launch at the intruder, but no more than some grains left the ground. Draco smirked and Kaalan blanched.

'How?' was clearly written on his face.

"Fire is a catalyst," Draco drawled. "You may control sand, but you're completely useless with glass." In a corner of his mind, he heard Tom's call.

And sand heated enough turned into glass. Glass that had been formed by the incantation, just under their feet, leaving an unbreakable wall between Kaalan and his best ally: the sand. The young man tried to take a step back but the dog was suddenly behind him, a bone in his jaws, barring his way. He was stuck with the intruder. He strengthened his grip on his sword and launched right at Draco.

Draco was occupied with Tom. The shaman had called for watery cloud, putting out the fires, and Hillirhan had joined in the fight, causing the snake difficulties. He saw only too late the blade coming toward him and clenched his muscles, preparing for the painful impact. He felt the cold metal against his stomach, breaking through the material, scratching at his skin, heard a scream… and suddenly disappeared.

When the danger of a fight had erupted, Hath'Gack had abandoned his contemplation of Sihayan, the immortal city, to run toward the borough his master was in. With horror, he had felt the beginning of the disaster. How could his master hope to survive against so many? But Draco had fought well, quickly dispersing his enemies, using their weaknesses and attachment to material things against them. Arriving at the border, Hath'Gack had seen the sword lunging at Draco, touching him, tearing through his clothes and screamed, forcefully pulling his master toward the shadows.

Kaalan cleft through nothing but air and Draco reappeared behind him, using his own shadow to tug at the sword, snatching it from his enemy's grip.

Draco knocked his knees, making him fall and pointed the sword at his throat. "You lost," he announced with superiority and bragging born in his fear, and pushed the tip against the young's jugular.

"Stop!"

Draco broke his move and looked where the yell had come from.

Out of his shadows' reach, protected from the fire rain by a shield of enemy shades, a golem was holding Tom by the head, letting the snake shake desperately to get out of the grasp. Near him, another skeleton was moving its bone tail threateningly, willing to avenge his mistress: the girl's arm had been slashed, probably by Black who was growling at them, waiting at Draco's side for his next order. Two soldiers were on the floor unmoving and five others were dispersed, some demons out around them. And in the middle of all, the Lord Hillirhan was holding up his hand, restraining his pet golem from ending Tom's life.

"I never wished to fight with you. It still happened and I can't take it back, but I can't either let you kill my son. Release him, and I will let your demon go."

Draco rose up, allowing his shadows to flatten his prisoner against the ground. "How presumptuous of you. I could kill your son, then you and your whole tribe for the affront."

"My tribe has nothing to do with this anymore and I will relinquish my title if it comes down to it," Hillirhan flinched at his own words, "This is only me trying to protect my son." His soldiers had put the wizard-born in a position of assaulted, and the child could demand reparation for it. Yet the stranger wasn't interested. Kaalan was taking the bulk of his anger, scaling the affair down to family matter.

Draco snorted. Both knew well enough that, for all his powers, he couldn't fight the whole of his adversaries very long, yet to go on with the battle would also meant many casualties on their side, the first of which victim to the sword trained on him.

"Release my son, and I will spare your demon."

Draco looked hard at the man. The lord was determined, but so afraid. He would do anything to try to save his son, even getting himself killed in the process, knowing he had no other chance than to hope the wizard-born would like his demon more than his revenge.

And just like after his confrontation with the demonist Uron, Draco's anger melted away at such nobility, leaving only tiredness and a strange pride in having fought his own darkness. He sighed and smiled sadly at the old chief. "I would have accepted," he said.

The lord released a breath.

"If there had been any danger behind your threat," Draco finished.

Hillirhan froze. "I assure you that I will kill the snake," he rasped.

"I know," Draco granted, "I didn't question your loyalty to your son." He made a move of the hand and the clouds disappeared, leaving them out under the bright sun. "But there is something you ignore, and which will prevent you from keeping your word true."

"What…" The lord murmured.

"Tom, the snake you are holding, isn't a demon."

He saw the incomprehensive look in the lord's eyes. He snapped his fingers and the snake disappeared in a puff of smoke, letting the golem's large hand close upon air. The dog soon followed.

"He is a wizard, a servant of me. I called him from the first world to battle at my side. And I can send him back by mere wish."

Hillirhan was desperate. A demon in the demon world wouldn't have been able to escape. But a wizard… Was it possible? Hadn't wizards chased demonists? Why would one serve a demonist?

Draco turned back to his prisoner and raised the sword again, wanting to see he who had nearly killed him experiment the fear he had felt when the sword had scratched at his body, and the pain which suffered those who defied him.

"No!" Hillirhan went on his knees, torn apart between sending his golem at their enemy and signing his son's death and his tribe's part destruction, or waiting for his son to be killed and hoping to save the rest. "I beg you, don't kill him."

It was no more than a whisper, but relayed by the shadows, Draco was able to hear it, and froze in his move.

"If you kill him," Kiria went forward to meet the wizard-born's sight, "Then you should kill me with him. I attacked you too."

Draco smiled evilly, showing teeth, "Isn't that a nice idea?" he maliciously whispered.

He heard the intake of breath of the broken lord and his face became serious again, suddenly feeling chastised for his behaviour, old memories of well-deserved rebukes rushing at him. "Stand on the side, foolish child," he spat at the girl.

She looked affronted and walked a step forward him, only to be repulsed by shadows. He looked at her in the eyes and she felt drown in the reptilian slits of his pupils. "When I order, you obey," he hissed. Lack of energy made him get rid of his shadows and he walked past the kneeling man. "Get up! It does not become one of your standing to kneel."

He stopped in front of the fallen soldiers and bent to take their pulse. A sigh of relief escaped him when he realised they still were breathing. Somehow, the idea of killing didn't fit right in his mind. Not that he would ever let a potential enemy know that. Death remained his best threat.

He heard movement around him and turned to look. The other soldiers were looking warily at him, some pointing their swords at him, but a sign from their shaman had them dropped. The man of medicine was standing away from them, some strange caring fear in his eyes that Draco needed a time to comprehend. The shaman wasn't afraid of death. He was afraid of angering him again, an anger that would result in his friends' getting hurt.

"Come forward," Draco called, feeling overwhelmed by all this chivalry. "They need healing."

The shaman didn't loose time and was near them in a rush, reciting healing formulas. Sometimes, he would take a glance toward Draco, watching him with that non-judging but careful look.

"I won't attack you again," the wizard-born reassured, "Your mind prodding is bothering but not painful." Yet he couldn't explain the dolour that had taken his brain some time previous. If it hadn't been the shaman, then who had been scanning his mind?

The shaman looked pained. "I wish I knew what is bothering you."

Draco sighed and looked away, feeling slightly ashamed that he was going to lie and put the blame on the holly man. "I think you do it unconsciously. Your mind is trying to classify my aura and you just need to take a glimpse at my soul, but I have been trained to recognise the invasion. I reacted too harshly and I excuse for it."

The shaman smiled weakly at him, suddenly much more in his element, diverting his attention from his wounded just an instant. He was used to deal with children's errors. "It is quite alright with me. I wasn't harmed. Your snake, however, caused more damage than I imagined and I fear some of us will be much the worse for wear."

"Yeah… If you have little pebbles or potions ingredients, I can help you."

"Pebbles?" Hillirhan, who had come near them, repeated.

"Yes," Draco looked at him with surprise and little annoyance that Hath'Gack made him look like an imbecilic ignorant, "the little stones you charge with energy," he tried to explain.

"Oh, crystals…"

There… Bloody demon…

"There are some in my tent, but they are empty…" Comprehension shone in the two men's eyes. "That would be quite generous of you," Irs'Shaf said.

He grunted. 'I caused them to be in this state, I have to repair now.'

Soon, he had some pebbles in his palm and was closing his eyes to concentrate. When he opened his hand again, the once translucent diamonds were some light shade of orange. He only had the time to think 'They're darker than last time, I've got the hand of it' before he fainted from exhaustion.

Lord Hillirhan looked with incomprehension at that young man who fought them with such ardour and for so little reason; only to pass from exhaustion at helping them afterwards.

"Why did he get angered like that?" he asked the shaman while retrieving the unconscious body from the ground.

"I am not certain, but I think that… he hadn't made it through his Fit yet."

"What?"

"His mind is still fearful of prodding, just like that of an adolescent would be. He would have killed us and ended his Fit if he hadn't succeeded in stopping himself. I believe this isn't the first time it happens."

"He hasn't made his Fit? I got beaten up by a child?!!" Kaalan had been liberated by the shades the moment Draco had fainted and had come near the adults to see the one that had vanquished him.

"Yes," Sha'Sinaï growled, "and be happy he was just a child, or he may not have excused you at all."

"But he begun it! He tried to hurt you!"

Hilliran sighed and eyed the shaman with care. "Sometimes, it is better to let one be harmed than to raise more anger."

"You would have me letting Sinaï get hurt? Just to satisfy that little git?!"

"That's exactly what he said," the shaman hissed, "your temper would have gotten the whole tribe killed if your father hadn't managed to calm him, and we don't yet exactly know how. Do you think so weak of me as to get wounded by a shadow hurl? I would have gotten a bruise at the most and it would have given me one more chance to reason him! These soldiers would be scared beyond repair if not for the crystal he himself provided to excuse his temper. What did you do to excuse yours, Kaalan?"

He sighed. "Let's not dwell on this now. You will stand guard at his tent, and you will excuse to him when he awakes. I want no refusal," he warned when Kaalan grumbled.

"I hope you have learnt your lesson," Hilliran insisted "I had warned you about the gods' chosen."

Kaalan turned toward his sister for support, but she was waiting for her arm to be healed, only vaguely looking at them. "And don't give me indifference, young woman,' her father reproached, 'You will be excusing too. Both of you will remain in the village till I deem you intelligent enough to leave again." He dismissed their groans "No physical training, you need to learn more about respect and power. You deceived me gravely, children." And he left for his tent, his bundle in his arms.

**End of the Chapter.**

PS : The legend of Aix-La-Chapelle is not mine (the part about the werewolves is though)

PPS : I really need a beta. Would someone be willing to correct these two last chapters ?


	12. Chapter 12: Traitors and chains

**Redemption of a Snake**

**Chapter 12 : Traitors and chains**

**Saturday, November the 28****th**

**Hogwarts, Remus' quarters **

Remus swallowed with a grimace one of the too many potions Poppy had given him to counter the after-effects of the Cruciatus. With a disgusted sigh, he counted the phials heaping up onto his desk and that he would have to drink before the day had ended.

He supposed he should be in the Great Hall eating at the staff's table, but he couldn't get himself to leave his apartments already. After the barely avoided disasters in the Great Hall then during the teachers' meeting, he needed the strange reassuring the bended stone of his floor could provide him, upholding his convictions that Draco was alive somewhere, and that he hadn't lied in vain.

He had lied to the students as he had asserted never being attacked. And he had lied to the auror captain and his own best friend, telling them that he remembered nothing of his fight against the death-eaters.

But how could he have passed over that bit of knowledge? That unsettling feeling of contentment and happiness travelling up and down his body. As his flesh was being tortured, his mind had escaped the pain and fled away to another place, a world of dreams.

In this realm of beauty and blissfulness, his soul had met again with that of his beloved, offering the most delightful ecstasy: a reunion and the elated knowledge that, despite the distance, his feelings were still returned.

And when reality had menaced to catch up on them, Draco had refused to let him go unprotected and in a wrench of power so strong that Remus could still feel it in his veins, the dragon had belched out a tornado of fire at his enemies.

A wall of blazing inferno had erupted around Remus, fed by the mutual energy of their intense affection, its heat burning their surroundings and scorching any who threatened their bond.

Indeed, Draco was alive and stronger than ever! Remus didn't doubt anymore: Draco would come back.

He was at that point of his reflections, staring proudly at the molten stone of his room, carved symbol of the warmth of his love, when an owl knocked at his window.

Some seconds later, he was running in the corridors toward the Great Hall. On his way there, he was met by Harry who had received the same missive and together, along with an auror which had refused to allow them to leave the school without a guard, they went past Hogwarts' limits and apparated to Saint-Mungo's.

After the night's intrusions, the watches and aurors had been doubled and the floo network taken down completely. From then on, any entrance or exit would be done walking. No one was to get out unwatched or unreported to the Ministry. Harry held no illusions about the true usefulness of these arrangements, Hermione having told him about the strange young man she had witnessed with Neville.

Minutes after receiving Saing-Mungo's call, Remus and Harry, listed as Sirius' first contacts, were at the door of the man's hospital room.

"Ah! Remus! Harry!" Black exclaimed with hope the moment he caught sight of them, "Tell them to release me!"

When they had read the letter from the Malfoys' mediwizard, both Moony and Harry had imagined the worse. Sirius wasn't a man to do things by half and for him to be in hospital, it had to be grave. However, it appeared they had overreacted. Padfoot looked perfectly fine, his face showing the threat of physical interaction between his fist and the doctor's nose if this one didn't sign his release in the instant.

Not at all intimidated by the once-said mass murderer, and probably used to much more: the Malfoy's temper, the Medicomagus went on giving his patient instructions to spare his supposedly weakening body and ended his list, to the utter horror of Sirius, with the order of a day rest in the hospital. Should Black try to escape, the doctor would have him sedated and bounded for the duration of that time.

Unmoved by the heartrending moan that escaped the man's lips, the doctor left him with his visitors.

"So," Remus sat at the end of the bed, soon imitated by Harry, both slightly anxious that Sirius would use his stay at the hospital to invent some sordid joke, and preferring to keep his mind occupied, "Why are you here?"

"That jackal of a cousin called for her monster of a personal healer to take care of me when I fainted," he ended in a scoffing imitation of Narcissa.

"And why did you faint?" Given the bursting with health state his godfather was in, Harry wondered what could have been strong enough to cause him a loss of consciousness. If there was a new enemy out, he needed to know who, and quickly.

He froze when witnessing Sirius' eyes hardening to murder. Harry swore he even heard the man's teeth grind. He turned toward Remus but the professor was fighting to keep his lips uncurved. No matter how the werewolf knew, it couldn't be so bad if he was amused, right?

"That rat! I'll kill him! If he ventures up his rodent face again, I'll make sure he regrets coming to life! And you!" He pointed at Remus, "I forbid you to ever see him again!"

"Sirius," Harry interrupted, unsure of the reaction he would get, "What happened?"

"It happened that this little ferret, that bane of my existence, dared, you hear, dared invoke me! Like an animal!"

"You mean Malfoy?"

"Who do you think?!" Sirius snapped, "Of course I mean that blasted cousin! I'll burn him from the family tree!"

"So Malfoy's alive?" Harry asked for good measure.

Sirius had a sardonic laugh. "Not for long."

"Where was he?" Remus inquired, squeezing the peaceful soul stone under his shirt. The gem was emitting faint warmth and beating the regular tempo of a sleeping heart, informing him of Draco's relaxed mind.

"How could I know? He called me to fight, not to visit!"

"Sirius!"

"Fine! He was at the beach!"

Moony stared wide-eyed at him. "The beach?!"

"Yeah, we fought in the sand. There were other guys and a skeleton something I had to destroy to please the ferret."

"Oh… The desert," Remus murmured with half a smile.

Harry frowned. So, Moony indeed knew more than he let on. But was that really surprising? Remus had never been one to disclose his information. Just this last night, what had truly happened in his room? He claimed a cauldron had exploded, but Harry would bet his own hand that death-eaters had attacked the man. Hadn't Sirius told him one day that Remus had been a bright student?

Too soon, however, Harry was sent back to school, while Remus remained a time with Sirius, as the animagus had requested a private conversation. Looking a last time at the serious face of his godfather, Harry knew what matter they were going to broach: an issue that should have been discussed long ago already.

"So," Remus inquired when Sirius seemed unwilling to perturb the silence, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Do you love him?" Black asked bluntly.

Remus reflected opting for the unaware, but Sirius' determined look dissuaded him. There was no use in delaying the inevitable. "I do."

Sirius sighed. "Since when?"

"I don't know. I've liked him for a long time. When he said he loved me, it sort of came naturally to love him back."

When his friend looked at him, Remus couldn't pinpoint whether it was with pity or resignation. "Are you even gay?"

That left Lupin pensive. "Gay? No, I don't think so. I suppose I may be bisexual though, I never really thought about it. It's so rare for a werewolf to find love, or even happiness… How could I quibble about who gives it? When Draco is with me… There are no fireworks, or lightning, I just feel… happy."

"But he left without you."

"No, I don't think he had any choice. And he's still here, with me, wherever I go. It was him who saved me from Bellatrix." Remus added, a glimmer of pleasure and mischief shining in his pupils.

Sirius' eyebrows arched, surprised the mysterious Moony would let his secret loose so soon. "Really?"

Remus nodded. "He was here, beside me, and I felt his energy ripping through me, attacking them. He will come back."

"If you're so sure…" Sirius certainly didn't look to be. "Why did you talk about desert?" He inquired, changing the subject, preferring not to destroy his friend's hopes.

Again, the mischievous glimmer shone in Remus' eyes. "You remember when we were in Dumbledore's office, and the wolf got frightened by Draco's shadows? That day, I smelled sand and desert on him. And since we're being truthful, for a time, what didn't you tell me about Glowin Hillock?"

Sirius sighed. "Many things, I guess. I suppose I should have told you this night, I don't know why I didn't. You see, when you are born in a rich pureblood family, some secrets are transmitted to you. Such as the legend of the Malfoys."

Remus was listening attentively, and Sirius grasped his wand to cast a soundproof spell around them.

"I didn't tell Dars about it, and it would be better if this remained a secret. Many would sell their firstborn to get their hands on that property. It's a chance or they wouldn't hesitate in telling the aurors everything they know and it wouldn't stay in your hands for long. But they fear too much that it would escape definitely theirs to reveal anything. That's probably why Malfoy let it to you, of all persons: because you are incorruptible."

"But what's in there? Death-eaters broke in using my blood, what where they searching for?"

Sirius sighed. "The altar. Do you remember the Duke of Erkas?"

"Of course. The family that the Malfoys served for centuries." (cf chapter 2)

"These were his lands, before his family extinguished. The legend says that each time a Malfoy was born; he was taken to the altar and his fidelity offered to the Duke. In exchange, he gained money, knowledge and power."

"But the last Duke died long ago…"

"And the altar remained. An altar which each Malfoy's blood has flown on since the beginning of their existence. What do you think Voldemort will do with such a weapon?"

Remus blanched. "Gain the Malfoys back…"

"Probably."

"What about the lands, you said many wanted them. Why?"

"Well… I suppose that's a less dire matter. It's not like the altar; the lands are just a popular saying. They're reputed to be a sort of impregnable fortress."

"Which is wrong, since the death-eaters already entered it."

"Maybe, maybe not," Sirius shrugged, "Why did Voldemort hurry so much and risked having his best minions captured in Hogwarts?" He paused. "Old families passed over their lands from father to son during centuries. They never moved. This is because the blood is very similar between father and son, the lands recognised the new heir and it strengthened their bond with the family, at the same time enhancing their protections. When lands change owners, their connection with their new lord is weak and very little is needed to disturb the protections enough to pass through. The blood of the new lord would suffice."

Remus was silent at the realisation. "He knew he wouldn't have another chance. Is there a way to get the altar back?"

"Save from killing Voldemort? I doubt it. He's probably keeping it under his pillow."

Remus nodded, ignoring the gibe. He had hoped Draco would have left him some indications about the directions to follow, but his letter had contained words of love and reassurance. Draco averred his trust in Remus' capacities, but the concerned one didn't have the same confidence.

o-

**Hogwarts, Great Hall**

When Remus appeared back in Hogwarts' chimney, he wasn't ready for the flurry of students in the Great Hall. A strange mix of excitement and protest was growing, rapidly exceeding the new Headmistress's authority. Minerva was standing near the heads' table, agitating her hand, her patience nearing its end. In a fit of anger, she took out her wand and silenced the whole room.

Remus couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the same scene, not a month ago, when Dumbledore had made every student's mouth disappear.

"You will learn, children, that when a teacher talks, the students listen!" She raged, "I am ashamed of you! You have worse manners than scoundrels!"

"And what is this agitation about?" She went on, "An article! And in this rag no less! Can you stop blaring long enough that I get a look at it?"

She surveyed them with a frown, stopping the glare only after verifying they were all thoroughly chastised. Straightening up her glasses, she lifted her spell and took a paper Flitwick was handing her. Remus took advantaged of her proximity and skimmed through the article with her.

"Draco Malfoy and the Legacy of Merlin," the headline read.

Come to think of it, he had thought that Draco would be shot down in flames by the journalists. But the directors of the Daily Prophet obviously were out for the Ministry's blood, and the article was practically an apology of Draco, stating how the boy had proudly stood up to both the Minister and You-Know-Who, refusing to be bought by any party, and had declared allegiance to Dumbledore in his protection of muggles. Really, where did they find such crap? Draco, protecting muggles? It was as improbable as Lucius taking a blow for a werewolf…

"The infamous Draco Malfoy, heir of the wealthiest pure-blood family of England, has been sighted in a muggle neigh borough, clad in jeans and T-shirt, entering a cinema while conversing with several muggles." A cinema, the paper reminded, was a place where muggles go in groups to have fun looking at photos.

"What a description…" Remus sniggered. But the photography under the written lines appeared quite real, as a little Draco looked at him with his usual smirk. The friend whose arm he hold kept his back turned toward the camera, his face hidden from the wizard's inquisitiveness. Around them, some other muggles were smiling at the duo.

"It is now asserted that Draco Malfoy was led away from the school of Hogwarts by his father who, with the complicity of Severus Snape, professor in said school, and Bellatrix Lestrange, convinced death-eater, murdered abominably his son by scorching him alive. While Lestrange and senior Malfoy could escape, Severus Snape was wounded by his student and is currently heavily guarded at St-Mungo's, where aurors await for him to awake to get more precise information."

"Mrs Narcissa Malfoy, in mourning for her son, declares ashamed of herself for believing her husband could be redeemed. She opened the gate of Malfoy Manor to the aurors, and their captain is proud to announce the capture of the thirteen death-eaters who had escaped Azkaban."

Bla-bla-bla.

"What became of the one called Tom? You are not without knowing that, a month ago, rumours started that the young Mr Malfoy had taken under his wing a young male spirit named Tom, who was said to be You-Know-Who in his youth. It surprised many that while openly opposing The-One-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, Draco Malfoy could befriend his younger counterpart. Auror captain Jonathan Dars states headmaster Dumbledore probably counted on this proximity to bring young purebloods to the side of Light."

More bla-bla…

"Draco Mafloy was revealed as an actual demonist. This news, first delivered by the Daily Prophet, launched quite the insurrection at Hogwarts, as many parents were afraid of their children mixing up with the wrong and dangerous sort. However, Mr Malfoy, apart from an incident with a fellow Slytherin, now outed as a death-eater, behaved exemplary and proved to be an excellent student. A source unwilling to be named disclosed his working for the headmaster as a Potions Maker."

"These many facts proved Mr Malfoy had been actively working for the Light under the direction of Albus Dumbledore. His death is a great blow to our side."

'Draco? Working for Dumbledore?' Remus fought to control his laugh. 'If he had, Voldemort would already be destroyed. No, Draco worked for himself and sometimes, his aims overlapped the Order's.'

"But what was the Ministry doing at the time? Our reporters went out of their way to discover it. And it emerges from their investigation that while Albus Dumbledore was planning against You-Know-Who, our dear Minister Fudge was planning against Dumbledore; and while Draco Malfoy was brewing potions to weaken the death-eaters, the aurors had been ordered to arrest him. So the Daily Prophet asks: what side in the Minister on?"

Ouch… "I wasn't aware the Prophet worked for us…" remarked Remus.

"It doesn't," contradicted Minerva, "The Ministry lowered their subventions, just as every couple of years. Mr Malfoy may have made a donation too. This would explain the praises. Such articles will last for some days, maybe a week or two, then they will be back to their previous self."

Great. That gave them at least some respite.

"But, faithful readers, when our reporters made these discoveries, they were far from reaching the end of the mystery that was this demonist wizard. We still had to read the last will of Draco Malfoy."

"Our first surprise came from a very well known family. We are naming: the Weasleys. Mr Malfoy left nothing less than five hundred and seventy thousand galleons to the youngest of the family, one Ginevra Weasley. The two families having been on terrible terms for centuries, we could only wonder: what did that girl do? What kind of sordid affair could have been going on between the two heirs of these ancient families?"

Remus shivered at the implications in the printed words. He could only pray that Molly hadn't already read that… But…

"However, Draco Malfoy was most of a schemer than we previously thought, and the idea had barely made its way through our office that his solicitor, Mr Alan Dustin, paid us a visit in his client's name. It was revealed that the idea of junior Malfoy was no other than to create an orphanage…" Bla-bla-bla…

"Remus Lupin, Malfoy's defence teacher, inherited the land of Blowin Hillock, old pureblood property, in thanks, auror Dars entrusted us with, for his support…" Bla-bla…

"…A legacy of Merlin was called. What could be in the box? And what sort of requirements would determine the elected one of the legacy?"

Remus scanned the corps of students united in front of him, all silently asking the same questions. What was in the box? And who had Malfoy chosen? It was while looking at the future generation of wizards, gaping at the revelations of the Daily Prophet, murmuring the name of their founder: Draco Malfoy, that he fathomed the truth, the only reason why Draco had carefully prepared for the case of his disappearance.

Draco had never cared about muggles and had washed his hands of wizards' lives the night he turned demonist. A handful of persons remained precious to him: his parents, entrusted to Narcissa; Severus and Remus, protected by the soul stones. The world could get destroyed that he wouldn't bat an eyelash in remembrance. Even the opening of that orphanage, which Remus had first taken for an act of goodness, would be part of the plan.

For Draco didn't wish to save the world.

He longed to be adulated.

He craved the publicity, the thousands of wizards and witches waiting, excited and afraid, to discover what sort of decisions and measures the last wizarding demonist had taken regarding their world. He thirsted for his revenge over them, these people who had dared judge him.

Whether he died or lived, he knew that the wizarding world was at his feet.

o-

**Hogwarts, DADA classroom**

"The old wizard with the grim look pulled me by the hand through gloomy, dank and dirty corridors. They emanated heavy and sickly smells of mildew. We arrived at a door fairly rusted and guarded by a man with an upsettingly burly built. The man was without any expression and seemed as jovial and bon viveur as an eight days old corpse. He looked at me with an indifferent air while the wizard pushed me toward the door."

"This is our new boarder, the old wizard said in a tone cold and smug."

"The guard opened the door which creaked glumly, and the wizard took me through other corridors. There was near to no light and I stumbled over something, but the harsh grip of the old wizard forced me to go on. A squeak made me glance backwards toward the floor. A rat the size of a cat was escaping by a hole in a wooden door half-eaten by the ants."

"We arrived in front of an iron-barred door and I was once again pushed inside. I barely had the time to notice another child in a similar cell in front of mine, his face and skin ravaged by the vermin, then we were plunged in darkness."

Remus moistened his forefinger and turned the page. The classroom was as silent as a grave. In a last hope of controlling the populace's opinion of demonists, the Ministry had ordered in catastrophe to cover the subject in DADA. And to ensure the aim would be reached, they had chosen in his place what he was going to say: he would read the memoirs of Möt Charrer, one of the most violent anti-wizard demonists of the Grand war.

Charrer was famous for his crude description of the murders he had perpetrated. Remus had only started his lecture at the beginning of the book.

"Hardly some seconds had passed that I felt the first bite. A colony of fleas had their nest in this dirty hole. Death only knew what other horrors lurked on the floor. But my legs were tiring quickly and despite my repulsion, I had to sit. The back of my pants was immediately covered in muck made of sludge, blood and excrements teeming with more vermin. The smell was pestilential."

"In the dark, many noises reached me: from the swarming of the ants to the grating of rats' teeth against the bones of some poor bloke too weak to fight them, along with a litany of moans coming from neighbour cells."

"In the morning, a group of wizard soldiers had arrived at my house. They had quickly surrounded the place, uncaring of my parents' questions. None was really needed: someone had denounced us to the High Council, probably a jealous man accusing us of colluding with the Devil for power and riches."

"Then purification had begun: one after the other, they had tried us. Just another word for torture. In the last decade, it had become widely known that those who traded with the demons were more resistant to pain and death. My father was first. They burnt him till he was rolling on the floor, screaming from dolour, tears falling freely on his once proudly hold face. It was the turn of my mother and I had to avoid the scene, the sight of her gentle face distorting under the agony was too much to watch."

"But when they came to me, I felt nothing. No pain, no burn sting. The surprise was such that I didn't react in time to fake a scream. The wizards took my wand and broke it. They tried my brothers and sisters but, thank the gods, all screamed, of faked it well enough. I was taken away from my home. The last I heard was my mother yelling at the soldiers to release me."

"I hope they fled. Everybody knows what happens to a family with a demonist member. They are attacked, their house burnt at night, if the inhabitants aren't tortured, violated and killed while the place is getting ransacked."

"I was taken to my cell in Alamor, the old wizard prison, waiting for death to come to me. Wizards were quick to understand that demonists can fake death. So they let the demon-friends rot in their cells till they die a thousand times. Should I feel throughout the muck, I would probably find some bones of the previous resident."

Remus turned another page. Silence still ruled over the classroom. He had been surprised when no mercenary of the Ministry was sent to watch his performance, and ascertain he didn't add some compliment on demonists. He had understood when, following his students, Jonathan Dars had closed the door behind himself and taken place at the end of the seat rows.

"As I let my mind escape from the cell, I wondered how many wizards were locked up here with me. And how many had been denounced for a supposed pact with demons? I couldn't help a bitter laugh. Wizards and muggles: all alike. No honour and no tolerance."

"But I wasn't any prisoner. I had an obvious advantage: I hadn't just resisted to the tormentors' fire spells; I hadn't felt anything! I had been wondering for some time already why my wand didn't work as well… Yes, I had an advantage… I truly was a demonist!"

"And I was slowly discovering what everybody ignored: demonists blossom in darkness."

"Their skin hungers for the burnt of flames, their mind for the call of death."

"Wizards had destroyed my family. They would pay. And they would feel how much more it hurts when we finally commit the crimes we have been arrested for."

"The feeling of power that overcame me made me bolder and I pointed a finger at the door, projecting my hatred. I was awake, at last aware of my own power. The High Council would perish before my revenge got assuaged. These hypocrites who dared condemn the witch hunt! They'll feel the wrath of Möt Charrer!"

"The iron door screamed funereally as shadows bent it awkwardly out of its hinges. The guard, alerted by the noise, was coming toward me, his wand in hand, ready to hex. The word hadn't left his mouth yet that the last screw of the door extracted from the wall, and the force I had put in my attack projected the iron structure on the man, crushing him on the opposite cell's bars in a sickening sound of mashed bones."

"The satisfied jeer of the other prisoners at the man's suffering made me smirk."

"I attacked the wooden doors, easier to break, and watched with satisfaction the survivors head over the guard, quickly finishing him of, then stealing his wand and clothes. The old wizard had either heard nothing, or had gone out for help. We had to flee… for now."

"I looked at a prisoner who stood in front of me, an insane glint of revenge in his eyes."

"Wizards were once a proud and fair people, he said. Then they were corrupted by the muggles' madness. They don't deserve their powers. Don't hurt my family and I will follow your path."

"He became the first reformed. We learnt later that his family had died of exposure in the forest after their house, goods and wands had been burnt by the inhabitants of their hamlet."

"But professor," Hermione hazarded, "Weren't the reformed demonists?"

Remus sighed. "Nobody knew what the reformed were. Since they used no wand, it was assumed they were demonists. Despite being our sworn enemies, their people were very poorly known at the time, particularly the form that their powers took, since they scarcely used them. Superstitions from the muggles about demons and maledictions had reached us, but we didn't know about fire and shadow control. It didn't look surprising for the wizards of the time to face demonists using no magical energy but a knife or a pistol."

"Why did the guy got arrested if he wasn't a demonist yet?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Wizards had noticed some of theirs suddenly turning into demonists, whose race they hated. This was prevention."

Students pulled a wry face in disgust at the behaviour, others voiced their condoning of the method.

"All of you already heard about the massacres that Möt Charrer performed against entire villages of wizards. There is no need to talk more about the subject. By reading this part of his journal, I only wished you to understand what had nurtured these murders."

"What about his family?" Harry asked, his face ashen.

"When he came back to his borough, they had disappeared," Remus explained, "He writes he never heard of them again. Some bad mouths said he had murdered them in a fit of anger. Still, since his journal hides nothing of the slaughters and tortures he carried out, I think he really never saw them again. This probably added to his resolution to kill all wizards."

Harry nodded in silence, a grave glint crossing his pupils.

"Well!" Remus clapped the book shut. "Enough talked about history. This is a defence class. As many of you know, I was…" he hesitated a moment, "well acquainted with Draco Malfoy." He saw Dars smirk.

"I trained with him during weeks, which enables me to give you a decent training on the subject. However, don't expect to suddenly become an expert on demonist methods. Although more thorough than most, my knowledge remains limited. Parchments out."

Noises of paper and quills filled the room as the lesson began.

"A demonist is a shadow who strikes quickly. They give you the impression of being isolated and unarmed but they are never truly alone. Their demons and magic need no tool to be invoked."

He headed for the board and wrote: Malediction, Invocation, Destruction.

"Demonists master three categories of energy. The first: Malediction, regroups many sorts of illnesses. The right formula will paralyse you, destroy your voice or steal your life away. Strong demonists were reputed for casting them by look only, thus the muggle expression of the 'evil eye'. Having been submitted to it, I can notify you of the great effectiveness of the malediction that keeps you from talking."

"Most maledictions are hard to clear, and when designed to kill their opponent, they become nearly unstoppable. Your only chance is to prevent them from being cast. Fortunately, apart from some flimsy maledictions, demonists tend to use them only as a last resort, because using an affliction takes away their control on their enemy's life."

"The second: Invocation, is the mastering of demons. Imps, devils, void walkers are the only demonic races I know of, them having been Draco's demons. You know that Karnar, the imp, controlled thunder, and myself have no idea of the void walker's true abilities. It is said that by possessing demons, the demonist can acquire new abilities, such as the capacity to converse with animals."

"The demons are completely devoted to their master. They would die for him in a heartbeat. However, their dying would transmit their energy to the demonist, thus increasing dreadfully his power for some instants. The preference of spells against them would therefore go to stunning or sleeping spells."

"Destruction is, as the word indicates, their most efficient technique in a fight, but it is also the most imposing. A complete controlling of shadows, walls of fire, clouds of magma are only examples of what you could see. This is the abilities demonists prefer since it doesn't endanger their demons. Another explanation is found in their behaviour in battle."

"Demonists don't consider duels the same way we do. For them, a duel is a verbal and energy confrontation. They will taunt and insult each other, show off what they can do," he smiled at the memories of Draco trying to frighten him with shadows, "invoke demons, fire and shadows, but they won't take the duel to a physical fight. I don't know why they behave this way. It may be a remnant of when demonists where the strongest living beings and only needed tricks to put their enemies to flight. Or it may also be that there always were very few of them and they may have held the preservation of their group in higher regard than the consumption of their irascible temper."

"But when the start has been given to the hostilities, they aim at destruction. They will attack not only you, but also constructions and people around you. Nothing will be spared. This is your punishment for imagining you could defy a demonist."

As to conclude his introduction to defence, the school bell rang. Remus hadn't seen the time pass; practice would have to be postponed to the next class. He let the students go after telling them to revise their elemental spells.

Remus ordered his note papers, thanked Dars for taking on the duty of invigilator and was about to walk out when…

"Could we talk?" Harry, who was standing by the door, asked.

Dars cast a suspicious glance at them, sighed and shrugged then walked out. Remus realised once more his luck that the auror captain had remained such a good friend despite their recent disagreements.

"What happened the day Malfoy left in the forest?" Harry inquired when they were alone in Moony's rooms.

"Why is it of any importance?" counter-asked Remus.

Harry felt the unwillingness of Remus to disclose the events and knew he would have to show candour and openness if he wanted his answers. "We think it could help us understand where he is now, and what his instructions are for."

"Instructions?"

Harry hesitated an instant. Remus might be watched… But he also was probably the only one with the ability to decode Malfoy's intentions. "He left things to some of us. A mission to Ginny, which she didn't want to tell us about. His potions to Hermione, but their recipes aren't working. A request to Dumbledore, asking that he transmits his wand to some guy named Reyan Shemars. There may be others."

Remus remained pensive, a smile playing on his lips. However Gryffindor Draco was growing into, the Slytherin would always dominate.

"About Ginny, it certainly concerns whatever he proposed to her some time ago. It may be about the orphanage but I doubt it, for Draco expressed his wish that the money comes back to her only at her majority which won't happen before some months if I'm not mistaken. About Hermione, I think he wanted the Light side to have access to them, in case of need. The recipes… well… my opinion is he only included them to boast to Hermione. He must have omitted some parts in them."

Harry shook his head in disbelief at such show off.

"About Dumbledore… Shemars is the man whom Draco chose to protect his will…" He lowered his voice. "I have suspicions about who he might be, or rather… what he might be."

"What do you mean?" Harry inquired, knitting his brows. A cold chill travelled up his back bone and his mind screamed at danger. Why was he so frightened by this interrogation? He couldn't fathom it. But suspicion slithered throughout his thoughts, and despite his will to remain fair and open-minded, he could only fear for the wizard people that had adopted him.

"After Draco left in the forest and came back, he got used to disappearing for one day every week. Given the state he always came back in, exhausted and his clothes burnt, I think he was out to train, and not alone. Moreover, I learnt this morning, alongside with you, that he also met with muggles. Finally, the aurors searched for Shemars among the wizarding community and found nothing."

"So he's a muggle?" Harry suggested.

"A muggle… or something else. Would Draco trust a muggle? Would he enjoy their company? No, Shemars was the one he visited each week-end, the one he trained with."

Harry repressed a shiver as his fear became reality. "Demonists survived the war…"

Remus nodded. "Probably."

"Do you know where they stand?"

"You mean if they would side with Voldemort? It would be surprising, since they live with muggles. But they could also consider it revenge to destroy muggle-born wizards which are so easily accepted by the Light while wizard-born demonists are killed ruthlessly. Still, I doubt they would follow his lead."

"Either they don't move or they decide to destroy every thing wizard," Harry summed up.

"That's the most plausible."

"And Malfoy? Would he fight us?"

"Who knows what Draco thinks?" Remus arched his eyebrows. "If we consider the state he was in when he left, he wouldn't. But the order has changed. I suppose I shouldn't have hidden this so long, but it could have had so many consequences… "

Harry waited apprehensively. While he realised he had been right in coming to Remus, he somehow regretted this new amount of information, and the political juggling he would be forced into.

"As the war was raging between the different classes of magic, a demonist leader decided to protect her people, and organised a massive exodus toward the demon world. This world is separated from ours by a thick wall of shadows, which demonists call the Shadow World. To pass from a word to the other, you have to enter the Shadow World, then to exit it on the other side. In fear that little demonists would be born in wizard families and killed for it, the woman let a door opened toward the Shadow World: the Veil."

"Demonists live behind the Ministry?" Harry understood, flabbergasted.

"Yes."

"What did you mean when you said the order had changed?"

"Sirius asserted Draco is alive, and among people with magic, probably demonists. And this is Draco we are talking about: a Slytherin with dreams of greatness. He is being offered a whole new world which he has power over. He would never refuse it. This involves new responsibilities, and new priorities. If the fate of his people comes in contradiction with his friendship to wizards, he could decide we aren't worth it."

"He would betray you?" Despite his little trust for the Slytherin, Harry had always believed in two things: Malfoy was immortal, and he loved Remus. He had put his werewolf professor above his beliefs and his family. He had retrieved Sirius from the Shadow World to please him. Could he abandon him?

"Betray me, no. I know he will come back, but after that… I doubt he would risk the demonists for the sake of the wizards."

Harry's head was turning from too much information. This was completely insane. Remus was talking as if Malfoy ruled over demonists. "This isn't logical: Malfoy is the newcomer in their world, the insider. Why would they listen to him, even less follow his lead?"

Remus shook his head. "You don't understand, Harry. Draco isn't only a demonist. He's the first wizard-born demonist in over two centuries. This makes him a king among his people."

o-

**Riddle Mansion**

The door of the lounge creaked softly, making the bird raise its head. It had been left alone for the whole day and, while it would prefer to delay the inevitable meeting, hunger and its stomach called for attention, wishing someone would remember it.

However, while the traitorous organ felt instant relief at the sound of door opening, hunger became the last of the hawk's worries as it watched the dark lord enter the room.

"Lucius, my dear Lucius…" Voldemort murmured suavely, slithering toward the cage. "Did you have a good day?"

'As pleasant as it could be, given the quality of my host,' he thought, leaving his mind open, his pride getting the better of him.

Voldemort tutted and stuck his fingers through the bars to caress the creamy-coloured feathered head. "Such animosity, in such a little body. Are you hungry, Lucius?"

Despite his wishes, Malfoy hadn't actually expected to be fed. The question thus filled him with suspicion. What did the dark lord want? It wasn't among his habits to feed his enemies. Though, he hadn't been his usual self either when he had let his prisoner live unscathed…

He was still pondering that abnormality when Voldemort, amused at the internal struggle of his ex-servant, vanished the cage in a flick of his hand and walked out of the room, leaving the bird free on the console.

Stunned by the action, the hawk remained frozen some seconds, unmoving on the sumptuously carved piece of wood. Was he dreaming? Still fazed, Lucius didn't analyse the situation and morphed back into his usual self, remembered too late that he stood at the rim of a very small table, and fell on the floor, dragging the console down in his fall, making a thunderous racket in the room.

Voldemort reappeared at the door, took a look at the man getting back up and the fallen console and his eyes widened unnoticeably. "What did you do?"

Calming his speeding heart and much too conscious of the flustered view he offered, Lucius picked up the table, grumbled incomprehensible words and stood next to the dark lord, his eyes daring him to comment. Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him, surprised by Malfoy's blunt Gryffindorishness and witnessed with amusement the high lord suddenly realise who he was glaring at and his haughty demeanour fall as quick as it had come.

"Since you have finished your acrobatic feats," he drawled, "we should be able to have dinner."

And he turned his back on the man, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor, leaving a gaping Lucius to follow him. Had Voldemort tried to crack a joke?

The walk in the shadows of the house allowed Malfoy to order his thoughts. Obviously Voldemort had changed more that he could ever have imagined. What could have nurtured such a transformation? Was it even possible? Lucius had thought about a trick, an act to get him where he was wanted, but the dark lord he had last known would never have played the game, whatever he would have gained out of it.

The only thing he had fathomed out was the use for the blood which Voldemort had asked Bellatrix to retrieve. If Lupin truly was, as the dark lord had affirmed the previous day, the new lord of Blowin Hillock, though Lucius wondered how Draco could have been so stupid as to bequeath it to a werewolf, then the weak connection between the new master and his lands could be breached by ancient rituals and the use of blood. If Voldemort succeeded in taking control of the property, it would be a formidable asset for his side. Asset which, in extreme circumstances, could get Lucius to reconsider once more his loyalties…

At last, they penetrated a dining room devoid of windows. Its grand table, sole vestige of a past grandeur, had been laid for two. Subdued lighting projected shadows on some ant-eaten tapestries, moving in time with the flames of the candles. They took place and elves appeared carrying two small trays of prawn with goat cheese and honey pastries.

Inwardly, profoundly hidden by layers of deny, Lucius admired the pride and ability of the man to maintain his death-eaters when he had such a dire need of money. As he had explained to the Order of the Phoenix, most of the families who followed blindly the dark lord and had funded the first war weren't so rich anymore, most of their assets having been sold during the trials that had followed the arrests of their members, or frozen at the beginning of the Second War. The desertion of the Malfoy family had been the last blow to his collapsing funds and Voldemort remained alone, last vacillating financial mainstay to support an army.

None of them had spoken yet as the main course followed the starter. Voldemort observed Lucius in silence and, preferring to finish the meal before the opening of the hostilities, Lucius observed Voldemort back. There was a little something that had bothered him since the moment he had laid his eyes on the dark lord the previous day. Something had changed, a detail that had passed unnoticed till now but didn't tally with his memory.

And in a brief second, as a flame wavered on its candle and illuminated the dark lord's eyes, Lucius saw and his breath stuck in his throat. For the glints in the man's pupils weren't red anymore, but brown.

Carried out by this flash of knowledge, he was quick to notice other contradictions with the past. The lord's face was less gaunt, his teeth less bestial, his skin less pale. He looked nearly human.

Voldemort was looking at him, a mischievous spark glittering in his eyes. "You noticed at last?"

Lucius let out the breath he was holding and put back down the fork that was standing halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he was taking in the transformation of the once undead man.

"You seem surprised," Voldemort said, amused, "I have your son to thank for it."

His maybe dead, maybe alive heir being mentioned captured Lucius' full attention. "How?"

"You never wondered what happened to my young self, Lucius? Or even why Draco would keep him at his side when he couldn't touch or live properly? Your son isn't cruel; he always has an ulterior motive."

And Lucius understood. "Do they know?"

"Thomas…" the dark lord paused, unused to the feeling of the name in his mouth and fought back the vibes of rage that shook him whenever he heard it, "he doesn't know. Your son, though, maybe?"

Draco could have been unaware of the repercussions of helping Tom, or he may have known since the beginning, and carried out his plan nonetheless. Who could claim to comprehend the way the demonist worked?

Since they were having a heart-to-heart talk, Lucius used the occasion: "Why didn't you kill me?"

Voldemort laughed and the sound, though still guttural, seemed almost natural, even though completely out of place in the dark lord's mouth. "The question is: would you have come if you hadn't been so certain I needed you?"

Lucius didn't answer. His heart contorted with the fear that he may have been duped once more by the man he had once known like himself.

"You are right," Voldemort went on, "I need you. With your son gone, you knew how precious you were to me. You knew I wouldn't risk killing you. Yet you failed me again with the retrieving of the wand."

Lucius flinched and the dark lord smirked. "However… You have something that is much more precious to me than a piece of wood. Tell me, Lucius. What did Trelawney predict?"

Surprise must have shown in Malfoy's eyes for Voldemort laughed again. "You should know that your thoughts aren't as well kept when you're morphed."

Silence fell on them as Lucius considered his options. Either he spoke, or the dark lord would use more persuasive methods to make him talk. Would his own importance weigh much in the balance? Probably not. Trelawney's last prediction had cost Voldemort too much that he would risk ignore this one.

"Dash is rising in the dark, following his lord's orders." He said at last. Voldemort's eyes glittered with pleasure. "The Chosen will conduct the chars of fire, backed by Sand and Puppeteer. Joined, the Unholy faction will allow the Survivor to achieve his first battle."

The dark lord's pupils had lost their excitation. Once more, the prediction played in Potter's side.

"It doesn't sound too good for you," Lucius commented, uncertain if he should be happy or not.

"It wouldn't," Voldemort smirked, "if we were the enemies of the moment." And if he planned well, he could even get out winner. He wouldn't be taken in two times in a row by the same trick.

"You finally proved quite useful." He got up and walked to Malfoy, wandlessly turning the man's chair toward him. "You came for answers, I will give them to your heart's consent." He caught Lucius' chin tightly in his fingers and looked at him in the eye. "Watch your son, Lucius, watch how powerful he became."

And suddenly, Lucius was in Voldemort's mind.

He witnessed his son entering the forest, carefully looking around him, watching out for the enemy. Draco took prudent steps, all of his senses in alert. He caught a flash of light to his left and headed for that direction. Frowning, he bent and examined a small doll lying on the grass. Abruptly, the ground broke under his feet and he sank mid-tight into the soil, loosing his balance. As he fell forward, his hands hurting the ground hardly, his eyes rounded at seeing something Lucius couldn't define. Draco shifted backward in a dash but, his feet still stuck, he couldn't avoid the blast of fire that came his way and shot him in the torso, burning part of his uniform.

Draco raised his hand and concentrated shadows and Lucius watched with horror as a wooden pillar grew from the ground, its outline carved with symbols. Before Draco could attack, the shades had left his hand and his control, attracted by the totem, and had disappeared in the engraved grooves, just as another shot of fire caught the demonist in the back, projecting him nose first in the soil.

Catching his breath, Draco extended his arm, making a pentagram appear under him, only for it to disappear not a second after. Cursing, he repeated his action, with the same lack of result. A third shot tore a scream of pain out of him.

Draco clenched his teeth in anger. His pupils turned to slits as fire was born in the hollow of his hand. Taking aim, he burst off the doll. At last, he took feet on the ground and looked around him, searching for the enemy. He didn't see soon enough the bolt of energy coming his way. The blow sent him reeling back to the floor. Before he could get up, creepers of rock slithered out of the ground, grasping his limbs, restraining him.

"Shit shit shit," Lucius heard Draco repeat while calling fire to his help, the element not being enough to destroy the stony lianas.

Both father and son heard a noise at their left and looked. The enemy was getting out of his hiding place. Higher by a foot than a human, the softly furred and clothed animal being had a face slightly elongated in a muzzle. It was holding a long knife in its hand and Lucius feared for his son.

The creature laughed sardonically and approached its bounded victim. Giving in to urgency, Draco stopped struggling against his bonds and looked at the sky, making his familiar cloud of magma appear above him.

Growling, the creature lunched at Draco, knife ahead. It never touched as a branch hurt it in the side, propelling it against a tree, its knife falling at Draco's side, missing him by an inch. Sighing in relief, till he remembered what happened to the man, Lucius witnessed Snape walk in the glade.

The Potions Master pointed his wand at the laying being and swore when nothing happened. He barely avoided a shot of fire by throwing himself aside when he realised Protego didn't work. His opponent was already getting up.

"The totem is blocking our energy!" Draco screamed, "Use elemental spells!" Magma was running the ground around him, fire still lurking around the creepers, making Draco into a mass of heat.

Severus sent a gust of wind toward the creature but the air had calmed before reaching it. Tensing at how few of his spells worked, he pointed his wand back at the branch and hurled it toward his enemy. Its eyes were glowing as one more totem was growing from the ground as its feet. Time suddenly seemed to slow in its vicinity and it avoided easily the rod.

Aware of the gravity of the situation, Severus turned around, saw that Draco was nearly free of the melting lianas and tried magic again to speed up the process, without success, since his fire spells weren't strong enough to destroy rock. The second after, he used wind to defect another shot of fire. When he looked back at the animal being, it was smirking at him. Snape raised his wand again.

"Don't attack it!" Draco yelled, forcing his way out of the lianas, "Block your mind and run!"

Severus hesitated and stopped his move. The creature growled, called for thunder and took aim at Draco. Unable to let his student get harmed when he could avoid it, Snape hurled a fire spell despite the warning. The tip of the wand had barely started burning that Lucius saw the Potions Master sway and the spell freeze. Handled like a marionette, Severus spun around and attacked a new totem which had grown unnoticed.

Lucius made out too clearly the look of incomprehension when Severus noticed he had changed target and was thundershot in the back. In half a second, the enemy was on him and had snatched his wand from his hand, sending it in a bush. It lunged at Snape, the difference of height and weight making it a quick fight. It looked with a grim smirk at a pendant on Severus' torso. It sniggered and ripped it from his neck then crushed it in its hand.

Draco was screaming in rage and pain as magma was devouring the last of the creepers, burning his skin with horrible screeching noises. But Lucius couldn't get himself to look at his son as he was morbidly attracted to the scene of the inhuman being, bent above Snape, its index travelling up and down his torso, fire carving on his body a pentagram of charred flesh.

An explosion resounded and the creature looked up to discover Draco, his reptilian eyes filled with wrath, knife in hand, his feet on the remnants of a totem. The pentagram illuminated the ground and the imp appeared, cracking with thunder, as angry as his master.

A totem started growing but it was blown up before even reaching its height. The foe shot a bolt at Draco, who avoided it by vanishing into thin air. Karnar growled and attacked.

Draco walked to Severus. The teacher was shaking on the floor, unable to move, as the flesh pentagram stole his life away. And Lucius saw in Severus' eyes that the man knew he was dying. Draco bent above him, in the same position than the being some seconds before. In front of them, the enemy was battling with the devil and another demon.

All of a sudden, Draco cracked open his own robe, sending some buttons flying. He didn't hesitate as he turned the knife on himself and, under the horrified look of his teacher, pierced his skin, carving in his body a complicated diagram. Blood flooded out his wounds and he grasped Severus, lifting him up, sticking their two bodies together, imprinting his blood pentagram on that which stole his master's life.

Holding Snape tightly with his left arm, he looked up at the creature. His pupils were only ire and, for an instant, Lucius was afraid of his son. Karnar's forces were giving out but his adversary didn't have the time to use its advantage as Draco extended his right arm toward it and clutched his hand.

The animal shrieked, shaking himself this way and that. It moved randomly, clutching his body in a frenzy. Lucius didn't understand till smoke started escaping its corpse and he froze in fear.

Draco was still glaring at it, his hand clutched tightly. Lucius noticed the imp was looking at something in awe. He turned his head and watched with apprehension a mass of shadows forming behind his son. The creature went on quaking, fumes then flames reeking from its body, eating it from the inside.

Lucius eyed his son, frightfully astounded at watching his who had never performed dark magic, his who had chosen to save even the young self of the dark lord, using a curse crueller than the Cruciatus, and using it to kill.

The creature had fallen on the floor but Draco hadn't stopped. Rage hadn't faded in him as flames consummated the last of his enemy, leaving but a heap of ashes.

When there was nothing left to burn, at length, the young man calmed down and breathed deeply. Still unnoticed by him, the mass of shadows had taken enormous proportions and was crawling around his shoulders.

"Behind you!" Lucius heard someone yell.

Draco turned and had barely the time to let go of Snape's body then he was taken away.

The next second, Lucius was back in the Riddle Mansion, his head completely turned out. Voldemort held his chin a little more then let it go and snapped his fingers. The elf apparated in the room carrying a tray of two glasses filled with a red liquid. Lucius looked at them, fighting to get his mind back in the present.

"It's not blood," Voldemort said, handing him a glass.

Malfoy nodded and took it but had to lower it on his legs because of his shivering hands.

"Your son is alive," Voldemort said while sipping his drink, "He's just in the Shadow World, though I would bet he already passed in the Demonic World. And if you were truthful about the Prophety, then he should come back."

"I spoke the truth."

"Good."

Someone knocked at the door.

"They are ready, my lord," Avery informed while glaring at Malfoy.

"We will leave in some minutes."

Lucius had straightened up his head and was looking at Voldemort with something akin to curiosity and suspicion. "Aurors arrested my Slytherins yesterday. I am getting them back," the dark lord explained.

Malfoy snorted. "So soon?"

Voldemort made to speak but stopped himself. There wasn't enough time for this discussion. "We will talk about that when I come back. Do you want to accompany us?"

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "You don't fear I would escape?"

"My door is open; feel free to go." He pocketed out Malfoy's wand and laid it on the table. "But, Lucius, be careful this time: aurors have orders to kill you on sight."

Then he was gone.

Lucius was left, once more flabbergasted by the unusual behaviour. He gazed at his wand before retrieving it, rolling it in his fingers, pensive, uncertain. The ghost of an old acquaintance was still hovering round him; his he had wished to forget. The dark lord had let him rot in jail, where he would have died if not for Draco's foolhardy action. He had tried to kill him, would have succeeded without a last-second intervention from his son. But wasn't that lord dead? Gone were the mindless attacks, gone the wanton tortures. Even his reptilian face was fading into the past.

Lucius couldn't forget that voice, screaming at his son to turn around. The day he'd lost his delusions on Voldemort, he had kept on following the dark lord because he'd had no other safe choice but in the place of the megalomaniac tyrant now ruled again a sharp leader, one that, in time, he could grow to respect once more.

o-

**Azkaban**

Theodore started with fright from his deep slumber. Closed around him, Blaise's arms shared what little warmth they could, the young man's legs spread out to support Nott's weight on his lap, protecting him in this way from the biting cold of the floor.

The death-eater observed the beaten face of his resting cellmate. During their few hours of sleep, it had slowly changed colours, turning into a horrid mix of blues and purples. The view lurched Theodore's heart in appreciation and pain. He knew full well what Blaise had saved him from: a fate which he could never have recovered from but which he wouldn't be able to escape for long. Despite his previous words, his gratitude was only deepened by Zabini's mere presence in Azkaban.

Blaise had lied, had accepted to be condemned and tortured so as to remain near the most vulnerable Slytherins. He had chosen to act the part of the scapegoat to avoid them from undergoing questionings. On his arm, crudely stuck back, stood out the dark mark. He had sacrificed himself for them, and that, Theodore would never forget it.

Suddenly, a door banged loudly in the corridors and Nott realised it was this noise which had waken him up. He tensed as, succeeding the dark echoes of the bang, he recognised foot steps coming in their direction.

Theodore hoped it wasn't Mad-Eye who would have realised the lies. After the séance of interrogation at the beginning of the night, Blaise needed the rest. He got up and used his robe to cover the deeply sleeping young man then walked to the door.

As he had feared, the steps stopped in front of their cell, keys turned in the lock and the door opened. The young auror of the previous day was standing in the corridor along with another soldier of the Ministry.

Half a second. This is exactly the time it took Theodore to understand the reason of their coming.

Behind him, Blaise hadn't moved an inch. Probably near to nothing could raise him from his slumber. Theodore raised his eyes to meet those full of lust of the aurors. This time, no amount of information would keep or divert them from what they wanted. He lowered his head in defeat and advanced between the two guards. Where was the point in resisting anyway? It would only make more come, and the more they were, the more it would hurt. And Blaise? What would happen to him if the aurors were refused?

The youngest, the rookie as Mad-Eye had been calling him constantly, smirked and caught his arm in a tight grip before locking back the door. He put an arm around Theodore's back and squeezed his ass hard, enjoying the squirm that travelled the young man as both aurors pulled their prisoner toward a secluded and empty cell of the corridor.

"You were right," the second auror spoke for the first time, his pupils glittering badly, "He's quite hot."

"And wait till you've seen the best part!" the first exclaimed. "You!" He pushed Theodore toward a wall, "Take off your pants!"

Theodore didn't even try to hide the tears of shame pouring out of his eyes as he complied, slowly removing his shoes then pants. His heart quickened under the rough touches of the aurors on his middle-section, knowing it was a matter of minutes before he was raped and broken.

"Yeah," groaned the youngest, lowering the Slytherin's underpants, leaving him completely exposed to the libidinous view of the two men, "touch this nice little ass." He pressed his index against Theodore's crack between his cheeks and pushed a knuckle in.

The man's hand was coarse and his brutal moves hurt the fragile skin. Theodore bit his lips and muffled a scream at the stranger presence that his body refused. Instinctively, he tried to move away from the hand, but the auror grasped his size roughly and kept him steady as he forced his finger deeper, tearing a yell of pain out of him.

"Shut up!" The oldest back-handed him violently, making his head reel from the force of the blow. "Not a noise, understood?"

Theodore looked at the man with suspicion. Didn't they have approbation from their boss? Hadn't one of their superiors accepted to send them just to hear one of the little death-eaters getting what he deserved? Realising he had been mistaken, his eyes rounded and he opened his mouth to scream.

But the 'rookie' was quicker and slapped his hand on Theodore's mouth, stopping the shout. He pulled out his finger and grasped vice-likely Theodore's crotch, sending him into a frenzy struggle against the painful grip.

The auror bent toward his ear and murmured: "Try to scream out for help and I'll cut off your balls. Got that, boy?"

When Theodore didn't answer, the auror knocked him against the wall. He tightened his hold and the death-eater cried out behind the suffocating hand, his eyes rounding even larger from the dolour, tears of pain escaping in flows on his already wet cheeks.

"Got that, boy?!" the auror repeated.

At length, fighting the lack of reactions of his body, Theodore nodded, certain they wouldn't hesitate in carrying out, and the auror let his intimate parts go. His genitals were still throbbing with waves of agony when the aurors manoeuvred him between the two of them and ripped his shirt.

Weeping at his predicament, he heard belts unbuckling and pants fall on the floor. Why hadn't he awakened Blaise? Zabini would have called out from the beginning, he would have known. And Blaise would have protected him. But Blaise wasn't here. He was alone against two stronger aurors. His too fast heart started hurting in his chest.

The youngest kneaded his ass harshly and a finger penetrated him completely in a rough move. "He's so tight!" the auror growled with bliss, "I'll cream just from being inside!" The remainder of what was to come sent Theodore into an uncontrollable shaking, unnoticed by the two occupied men. His heart was beating so hard he could feel the blood hammering against its walls.

"Can't hold your jizz?" The other laughed. "Watch me drill his mouth!" He pulled hard on Theodore's head, forcing him to bend and in a long groan, impaled the boy's mouth on his cock.

The smell was awful and the rob much too big for his mouth, but he was nearly unaware of it as his hand pressed against his heart in a desperate attempt to stop the pain.

The oldest auror was pumping his mouth with violence, gagging Theodore. The youngest grasped his waist, positioned his cock against the death-eater's ass and pushed. He moaned at the tightness of the passage, just as Theodore screamed against the first one's cock. And suddenly, as an answer to his wish, everything stopped.

He didn't realise the 'rookie' had already cum inside his ass, he didn't gag from the sperm of the other flooding his mouth. Blood had stopped circulating in his organism.

Theodore fell on the floor, unmoving, his hands still clutched on his heart. The oldest auror shifted him backwards with his foot and watched the light slowly leaving the prisoner's pupils.

"Shit!" the rookie exclaimed, "The other will tell Mad-Eye if his toy doesn't come back."

"Who cares about them? They're death-eaters."

"Yeah, but Zabini only talks when this one's menaced. Mad-Eye will have my head if he loses the leverage."

They looked at each other, a plan forming in their minds, uncaring of the dying young man on the floor. "Get his clothes," ordered the oldest, "Dress him up." As the rookie complied, he went back to the cell.

"The other is still sleeping," he said when coming back, "We'll just put this one back in and nobody will know. If he dies, they'll think he had an attack."

They smirked. "One less death-eater in the world. Good riddance."

The rookie levitated his prisoner to his cell and chucked him inside without consideration.

Then the door closed back and Theodore was left in the dark, lying in a pool of grimy water, the slop bucket inches away from his face.

'I'm dying,' he thought. 'I'm dying.' He closed his eyes, tears rolling on the floor. "I don't want to die," he murmured. Weakly turning his head, he noticed Zabini resting near him. "Blaise," he called. But the Slytherin didn't move.

"Blaise!" he tried unsuccessfully to call louder, "Blaise!" His heart had stopped hurting. He couldn't feel anything anymore as his body was ankylosing.

In a semi-awareness, he watched with relief his cell mate redress.

After the violent interrogation of the past day, Blaise had been left exhausted. Sheer will only had kept him conscious though the questioning but as soon as he had lowered his lids, adrenaline had decreased dramatically in his organism, plunging him into deep sleep.

He awoke at the sound of his name being called by a little voice and his hands clutched around void as he took in the absence of human body on his lap. 'Where is Theo?' He only thought before seeing the immobile corpse. "Theo!" He screamed with fright, scrawling toward it.

"Theo," he slapped the boy's face slowly to force his eyes open. What he saw froze his blood. The pupils were dilated, filling the young man's eyes with the darkness of death, and his own watered, as he didn't need words to comprehend what had taken place. 'Oh Theo… Of all times to be brave…'

"What do the muggles do already?" he thought aloud, "Yes, keep the blood circulating by pumping the heart…" One of his mother's ex-husbands had had an uncanny curiosity for the muggle medicine. When he had died, his books had alimented the library of their house.

Drawing in his last reserves, he pulled the dying Slytherin against his torso, planted his hands over his failing heart and poured energy, forcing the organ into movement. "I won't let you die, Theo," he whispered in his ear, "I promised to protect you and I refuse to fail twice."

He went on speaking to the unconscious young man in his arms, murmuring sweetness and reassurance, when a noise outside got his attention. It was only a small sound, but one of this sort which when heard once, you can never forget; one of these sounds that make your blood crawl and your mind quiver, that echoes in your ears like badly controlled tempo. It was the noise of a dead body falling on the earth.

And suddenly, it was clamour in the corridors. An air-raid siren rang out. Bombs were exploding, destroying entire walls of cells, aurors were yelling curses at invisible assailants. Behind the fall of stones and screams of men was slowly rumbling the din of battle.

'Death-eaters already?' Blaise wondered.

He was confronted with a terrible dilemma. Should he allow Theodore to be taken back to the death-eaters? Nott wasn't a killer, he didn't have his place among Voldemort's soldiers. But could he fight them off, when they could be Theodore's only chance of survival? How would the dark lord react to Blaise's presence though?

Above the noise of the bombs, he heard screaming in his corridor and tightened his hold on Theodore.

"Expelliarmus!" Someone yelled. The fall of a body reverberated on the stones. Metallic doors banged open. One then two then three. The door of their cell opened brutally, crashing into the wall.

o-

**Meanwhile, in Hogwarts**

The masses in the great hall were getting restless. The arrest of the death-eater students, then the rumours about other spies had left the population of Hogwarts on edge. Civil war was stirring.

"Ron!" Harry suddenly yelled, "Stop chewing the cud about that! I'm sure Ginny can take care of herself, and as she said, Esther is probably no menace. How could she have known Zabini was a death-eater anyway? I'm sure even Maloy thought he was neutral, and they were always sticking together."

"I worry, ok?! In case you forgot, she's my sister!" Ron raged, his fists clenched.

"Listen," Harry breathed deeply, slowing down his respiration, trying to cool down so as not to let the situation deteriorate. Ron always had had an awful temper, and it was his duty to remain calm. He was thankful the girl wasn't there to witness her brother's protectiveness or she probably would have given him a mouthful of her own. "The best you can do for now is to let the matter rest. You know Ginny. The more you push, the more she reacts. If you go on pestering her about Esther, be sure they'll be best friends by the end of tomorrow."

At length seeing from Harry's point of view, Ron's temper deflated in a dash and he sighed deeply. "Yeah, I know. But… She's my sister…"

"Ron, she's like my little sister too, and if I could protect her more, I would. But I can't. Save from locking her up inside a cupboard for the rest of her life, nobody can." He lowered his voice, aware of the eyes of the Ministry's lapdogs on him. It was risked, yet this was the best place to discuss: there, in the middle of the hubbub, listening spells would be of little use. "Now, we need to concentrate on Dumbledore. I talked to McGonagall, he was taken to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?!" Ron repeated, aghast, "But there's still the virus!"

His look sad and tired, Harry nodded. "Yes, there's always the virus. And Dars is probably hoping to weaken him, if not kill him. Ron…" he sighed, "Malfoy… the father I mean, he said I'd made progress, but I'm not ready yet to face Voldemort." He ignored Ron's flinch. "And Voldemort surely knows that, thanks to that same bastard." He wasn't even interested in the reason why Lucius Malfoy had broken into the school and wanted his son's wand. That man was a nuisance and not to be trusted: he was too versatile. "I need Dumbledore to face him."

Ron remained pensive, his unseeing eyes laying on his friend, his mind lost in the vagueness.

Harry frowned with apprehension. Dumbledore was gone, and to him had fallen the duty of leading the Order. To him also had been transmitted the worry that twinned the job. But how could he conduct a team that he couldn't meet?

Hoping to relieve the tension, he launched a discussion on the outcome of the improbable World quidditch cup that should have taken place the year after.

"Harry," Hermione called, sitting next to him.

The bespectacled boy excused himself from the conversation, leaving Ron to sustain their point against Dean and Seamus, and turned toward his best friend. "Where were you?" he asked undertone.

"I had to finish potions for Madam Pomfrey, I told you earlier," she looked at him pointedly, blaming his lack of attention and Harry was disturbingly reminded of McGonagall.

"Yeah sorry," he muttered.

She served herself a drumstick, rolled a paper napkin around the end and lifted it to her mouth. Harry waited patiently, knowing it could only be important and helped himself to some more mashed potatoes, despite his full belly. Hermione never had used her hands to eat meat. When her lips were hidden by her dinner of choice, she spoke.

"Olivander was in the Infirmary. When I asked him, he said Mrs Pomfrey had called for him since her wand misfired."

She paused and took a bite.

"But after I left, she gave him a phial of blood."

"So," Harry asked when she didn't say more, "Ministry, Dumbledore, Malfoy or something else?"

"Not the Ministry: Pomfrey is incorruptible. I can't see Dumbledore condoning any blood magic so I'd guess…"

"Malfoy, yes. Again." Harry ate his potatoes at a slow rate, disgusted by the quantity he had already ingested in the evening to keep his discussions private. "Bloody hell, does that guy ever stop scheming?"

Hermione chuckled. "You always inspired him. Luckily for us, he seems to have improved since his baby years."

"Yeah," Harry laughed, "You remember when he tried to have us expulsed because of Norbert and ended up in detention with us? That face he made! It was worth the detention!"

Noises of glasses chinking together caught their attention.

"Students," McGonagall beckoned. "As you all know, Draco Malfoy called for a legacy of Merlin."

Whispers accompanied the reminded article from the Daily Prophet.

"Since he left no indication to designate his heir, the Ministry decided to let all the Hogwarts residents make a try."

The Hall feel silent for a second, stomaching the news, before bursting out in screams.

"Why do they make us try?" Harry wondered aloud. "It's obvious it's Remus."

"Don't be so sure," Hermione whispered, head bent forward. "There may appear new paws in his game which we ignore all about."

"Those who wish to make an attempt," the headmistress went on, "please get up and go to the quidditch pitch. You will be apparated to Malfoy Manor by aurors."

As a single body, all students exited the hall. Such appeal couldn't be resisted.

o-

**Flashback: Wednesday, November the 4****th**

Draco cursed at the brambles that blocked his way. He had decided to walk straight ahead and see where that took him, but Nature took pleasure in breaking his will. Trees, lakes, marshes and now thorns! Fine, he would make the detour.

It was the fourth day now that he walked alone in the forest. He had met several odd beasts on his way, some of which were nice enough not to attack, others… well… being angry had a good point sometimes. Around him, the forest was calm and almost silent. He couldn't help but smile when he remembered his first walk in there, in his first year. Merlin, he had been so afraid! Running straight into Voldemort feeding hadn't helped him overcome his fears…

But when he recalled his recent walk, the story was different. He observed and discovered when sun illuminated his road and entrusted Hath'Gack with his security when night fell. The demon was enough to frighten most of the unwanted visitors. Draco was very lucky to have them for, since he hadn't thought of the problem before his stomach began grumbling for food, he had taken no provision. Karnar had revealed a good capacity at searching for these disgusting but nourishing plants.

After four days, he felt much better. Being alone had brought serenity upon him and he was grateful for it. He would soon be able to go back to Remus without risking hurting him. And to shower too, he thought, wrinkling his nose. He smelt foul. He had vaguely hoped he could take a bath in a lake, but the sight of the leeches and other similar horrors had stopped him.

Suddenly, his ears stirred to life. He had heard something out of place among the birds' singing. He stopped moving and listened to the air. Again, the same noise. Someone was screaming. Who would be stupid enough to wander in this forest? Apart from him…

Curiosity getting the best of him, he ran toward the yell, stopped as he lost the lead, then dashed anew with the next cry. But when he arrived at the place where the person should have been, there was nothing save trees. He lifted his head to observe between the branches. There was nothing. He was ready to give up when the ground gave way under his feet.

He screamed in fear as he felt his body falling underground and, some metres lower, roughly hit the soil with a thud. 'How lucky I am…' he thought bitterly, noticing how much his ankle was hurting. He couldn't add more when another cry echoed in the place. Someone was screaming for help. The voice of a man.

Draco contemplated at the hole he had fallen in. It was too high for him to climb, especially if he had broken something. And he couldn't do much for the man; there was no exit in the trap. Except…

'Oh no…'

Ground gave way again, and he protected his eyes from small branches as he felt his body suffering from gravity. He gave a cry when his legs touched the ground. In the dark, he felt his leg and, by the uncommon angle that his ankle was twisted in, he deducted that if it had only been a little hurt before, it was now well broken. But this was actually the last of his worries.

All around him, he heard clinking noises that sounded like insects. In a dash, he summoned fire to illuminate the place and suppressed another scream at the vision. What were these repulsing creatures?

'I promise I'll never make fun of the weasel's fear of spiders again,' he swore.

A thing rushed at him and met with a nervous fire shot. Suspicious of his powers, the others stayed at suitable distance, surrounding him in the low underground he had fallen in. "Fine!" he shouted, in pain and anger, "You want to play that game! I'll give it to you then!"

His teeth clenching at the dolour, he redressed and, in his mind, delimited a circle around him. 'Let the fun begin…' He murmured incantations, vaguely registered a triplet of spiders launching at him and, as they were about to touch him, invoked fire. With a sneer, he heard the things cry out when it ate them and smirked when they fled, lightening corridors with their own burning body. Around him, deadly dark flames were rising, protecting his ground and back. The spiders opted for a strategic retreat and he was left alone in his hole.

He sat again to rest his sore foot and thought of the best thing to do. He had to get out. How? His demons would be of no help in that, none had the ability to fly or climb such unsteady walls. There also was this other person…

Conserving the fire around him, despite the fact that it was quickly burning his energy, he invoked the Eye. His body fell, lifeless, eyes wide open, pupils dilated by the absence of soul within him. This way, he could visit the subterranean passage without risk of falling deeper. Where to go first? The man had stopped calling for help and Draco had no guide for a direction.

At his right, though, he felt a call. It was a familiar feeling that stung at his mind, telling him that it was the way to go exploring. Inside the orb, he headed there, following his instinct. Some distance away, he felt his heart beating faster in his body. He wasn't afraid, oh no, he was excited. There was something in the presence of that man that aroused him.

At length, as the minute ended, he saw the light of a small fire and a person lying next to it. Was he too late? No, the stranger was still breathing and, apart from some wounds at the arms, seemed well enough. The man was actually younger than Draco had expected, probably in his very early twenties. He was reposing on his back, his eyes wide open, his pupils dilated… The orb disappeared with a pop and Draco remained frozen on the floor, flabbergasted at his discovery.

He hadn't been aware of the void in his chest till it was filled. He had never given much thought to being the only demonist in a school of wizards and maybe in the world, occupying his mind and time with diverse illegal activities. But he knew it now: he had been lonely. And here, in the middle of the forest, he met another! His chest inflated with warmth at the knowledge and a single tear fell the length of his cheek.

Suddenly, a sound reverberated in the underground. "Ally or enemy?" it said.

Draco chuckled at the suspicion and curiosity in the voice. "Ally," he yelled back. 'Better not raise animosity before I even get to see the guy.'

"I'm coming!"

Draco heard movement in the spiders' burrow and saw a head then body appearing at the end of a corridor. Indeed, the young man was probably no more than twenty. Light brown hair and a frank look, he was dressed in loose pants and a sweater, his shoes were...

Draco gaped. "No way…"

"What?"

"A muggle…" murmured Draco, unable to talk above the soft whisper so much his surprise was contracting his lungs. Was that even possible? There had to be an error; this surely was a wizard dressed the muggle way!

"A what?" exclaimed the man, stopping his progress in case the boy was dangerous and because the leeching flames were still surrounding him.

Draco noticed the unease and shrugged, ordering the fire to extinguish and only soft sparks to remain so that they would still see something in this darkness. "Sorry. It's the first time I've met another demonist. My ankle is broken," he informed, changing the subject, "I can't move."

The man kneeled next to him and examined the twisted leg, letting escape a grimace at the bad angle of the bone. Draco hesitated. He could call for Hath'Gack to cure him, but that would burn all the energy he had left and he wasn't keen at being exposed powerless against a demonist he didn't know, even if this one inspired trust in him. At length, the man sat on the ground.

"Thank you for coming," he said, "There were too many to fight them all alone. Great circle of fire, by the way. I don't know how you did it, but it's impressive."

Draco smiled at the compliment. "We should get out quickly before the spiders come back," he suggested. He pointed at the cell above him where there was a hole. "I fell from here. Maybe we can go up the same way."

The man seemed to consider the possibility. "Yeah, but we won't be able to climb it ourselves. I have someone that could help though…"

When Draco heard the incantation for a summoning, he tensed, preparing to fight at any suspicious move. At his side, he still felt Karnar, ready to appear and defend him. But he needn't to. The demon was aerial, two meters long and thin. Two pairs of fragile wings framed his body, talons clawed the soil, and he rubbed his master's legs.

The man helped Draco up and placed him on the demon's back then took place behind him. "Beware, Irisha," he counselled, "The ground is weak." So this was a female… Her wings curled backwards to keep them from falling and she jumped at the hole, sticking her claws in the walls. For a time, Draco thought it was going to collapse, but the demon was quick and agile; she never gave the rocks time to crumble. In no time, they were out, safely sitting under a tree.

Draco observed the demon moving, impressed. The man smirked; still, Draco could feel a certain tension in his behaviour. "My name's Reyan."

Draco smiled softly as he presented himself. "What were you doing in the forest?" he asked.

Reyan sighed. "Well… I'm living at the East of the wood. I had heard rumours among the beasts, how there was a school of wizards on the other side. I wanted to see if that was real… Stupid really… Don't laugh," he reproached, "I was curious, that's all. There's nothing anyway; I searched the forest for days and found no school. Stop laughing, I said. And what were you doing here yourself?"

But Draco couldn't help sniggering. He peered meaningfully at Reyan. So, he really was a muggle and knew about wizards. Abnormally, the idea didn't bother him as much as he would have believed. But Reyan wasn't a true muggle, just as Draco wasn't a wizard anymore; they were demonists. They were the same. The young man eyed Draco with wonder and suddenly realised the clothes. It was a uniform. His eyes rounded and he gaped in awe, making Draco laugh out loud.

"You're a… You're a wizard?!" he exclaimed.

Draco calmed enough to answer. "I was. I'm a demonist now."

"But how? You can change? Aren't wizards greater?" In his town, legends about magical people were common and incredible. How they lived near them and nobody had ever seen them, how they could disappear and make strange things with their wands. Wizards' powers were renowned strong and incredible and since their defeat in the war, demonists had remained hidden from their magical cousins.

Draco sobered at the question. "That's a long story…" and he'd rather not talk about it.

"Great…" Reyan murmured, still observing Draco as if he was non-human. "What were you doing here?" he asked again.

Draco coughed and looked elsewhere. "I was taking a walk… Had to calm down…" What was it with him? He just wanted to spill everything to this muggle! Had he been craving that much for someone that could understand him?

"Oh… You did your fit? I had mine some years ago! I burnt the house! It was great…"

Why was he talking of it as if he evoked a good memory? Draco's face had to show his incomprehension for Reyan frowned. "Sorry. I forgot. Dad had told me how demonists grew up alone… It's the first time I've met one outside my family…"

Draco gaped at the information, as Reyan went on, obviously as eager as him to share experiences. "The fit is an outburst when you pass from novice to real demonist. Grandfather always said that the bigger it is, the stronger you are. A pity he wasn't there to witness mine… So, what did you do?"

Draco shrugged. "I tried to kill my friend, assault my mate, and slaughter the headmaster…" he admitted.

"They're wizards?"

When Draco nodded, Reyan showed his being impressed by a nod. "It had to be difficult."

"No, not really, we're stronger than them after all."

This time, Reyan frowned. "Stronger?" he repeated.

"Yes, demonists are more powerful than wizards."

The young man examined his hands in astonishment and pent-up rancour. "I'm stronger than wizards… Do you want to come home?" he proposed with excitement, "I'm not having school for a week. Little infectious malediction," he said with a wink. "And mum will take care of your leg. That's it, if you aren't awaited somewhere…"

Draco considered the proposition and recalled the discoveries he had made in so little time. There were demonists outside of wizards! That contradicted everything he had read till now! Maybe could he learn more in the family. He would be able to talk with Reyan, to discuss their demons, their curses and maledictions, wizards too since they seemed to know a little about them. Besides, he still had some days before he had to return and take care of his surprise… They were demonists; he wasn't alone anymore. He nodded and, when Reyan went to help him get up in order not to tire his ankle, he smirked, knowing they were on the same wavelength. "I have someone that could help…"

o-

**Back to the end of November, Near Azkaban**

Sitting in a pub of the continent, Reyan Peter Shemars was watching attentively the dismal and massive shape that was the prison of Azkaban. He had been running the coastline the whole day, pinpointing the best place to take off when the time would have come.

Sighting in his coffee, black enough to keep him awake and running, he thought back to the numerous changes in his life since Draco Malfoy had entered it. The young wizard-born demonist had wretched havoc on his preconceived notions. If a wizard could chose to become a demonist, then maybe they weren't all that bad. Maybe some of them deserved the help of demonists.

He scanned again the dead lands which Azkaban rested on. In the demonists' memories, the recollection of the prison of Alamor was still as fresh as the day it was created. Although the enormity of his actions was condemned, Möt Charrer remained one of the fiercest resistance's leaders. While young demonists were educated in the respect of every form of life; this figure of power, pride and revenge always took a particular place in their stories: the martyred murderer. Along with Lady Hyayin, to become Möt Charrer was every child's dream. They had been the heroes of every generation for the last two centuries.

However, this adulation didn't erase the profound and bitter taste of defeat. Nobody had forgotten that in the end, demonists had been forced to flee from their homelands. The desire of revenge grew deeper in Reyan as he watched the aurors on their rounds, far away on their island, these same ones that had been drinking heavily some tables away from him, not an hour ago. Did they really think muggles stupid? The barman might turn a blind eye on who visited his establishment, but glances and talks had made Reyan certain that the man knew of the true kind of his customers.

He had heard them conversing… Blaring was rather like it. Ha! How proud they were, these dignified soldiers, their beer in hand! The past day, they had caught a group of death-eater children in Hogwarts, these pompous little arses, they had called them. Reyan had clenched his fists. They would break them, they had joyously screamed. Reyan's eyes had turned black.

Wizards never had enough. After chasing demonists, they were getting rid of the few wizards they had been closed to: those they cowardly named dark, fuelling their own hatred, assuaging their own need for enemies, in fear of discovering the true nature of their perverse souls.

Shadows had started growing under his feet, hidden by the table he was sitting at, when the barman had brought him a new coffee which he hadn't asked. "Stormy weather today, isn't it?" the man had said, showing the raging tempest outside the pub. Still too absorbed in his anger, Reyan didn't have any answer and the man wasn't waiting for one.

"Nature could have waited some more hours to revolt; I had my washing to hang out. I was just asking the clouds to hold on till the night but heh! Only the fools' wishes are granted nowadays." After sending a pointed look at Reyan, he had gone back to washing the free tables. None of the aurors had noticed the exchange.

So Reyan had tempered his wrath and waited patiently for the night, his heart swelling up with rage. The similarity of the young wizards' situations with that of the past demonists rang too strong in his mind. Whatever they had done, he wouldn't leave them inside of that prison.

When Draco had requested a service to him, he hadn't foreseen the events that would take place in Hogwarts the day after and the arrest of his fellow Slytherins. He had foolishly believed the headmaster would protect the school, but Dumbledore was locked up in that same fortress. How ironic. The Lightest of all wizards, shut up in with the dregs of his society.

Reyan was tempted to let him rot there with the virus, but Draco had given him a mission and it wouldn't be said a demonist backed on a promise, however difficult fulfilling it would be: from his listening, he had gathered the old man had been taken in solitary confinement at the centre of the prison, in some sort of super cell.

He was still musing on the best approach to take when he witnessed a figure suddenly appearing at the border of the island, quickly followed by a group of darkly dressed people. He got up, paid his coffees and exited the pub, screwing his eyes.

Despite the early hour, it was already pitched black and he saw too little of the newcomers' activities, till a siren rung out in the dark.

'What's happening?' Reyen wondered. 'Death-eaters? Don't they know the guards have been reinforced? They're not enough!'

Seeing the answer to his problem, he put on a long robe and mask, invoked his demon and rode it, skimming the sea and dodging the waves. He berthed on firm ground in a concealed corner of the island, shadowed himself, handled his wand and followed the death-eaters through a hole in the prison's fortifications. A kindle of darkness tickled his mind and he scanned the place for another demonist, but the demonic magic had already vanished.

Around him, wizards were fighting each other in a bloody battle. Reyan disregarded them and, avoiding the fighters, went up a series of stairs to the third floor, where he had caught sight of a young woman though a slit in the wall.

He had barely penetrated a corridor that a couple of aurors tumbled upon him, disrupting the assembling of shades hiding him. In a second, he pointed his wand at one of them and shouted: "Expellus!"

The auror hadn't had the time to materialise a Protego that his wand was diverted by a shadow and his body propelled against a wall.

"Expelliarmus!" The other yelled, not sharing a glance to his partner. He smirked when Reyan's wand flew from his hand. Keeping his own trained on the intruder, he could scarcely block the fire ball that suddenly came his way, so strong was his surprise as the supposed death-eater used wandless magic.

He never envisaged this man, dressed in black robes and white mask, could be anything but a wizard, and understood nothing when a heavy form appeared at his side and jostled him violently, pushing him head first in the stairs.

Pity that the wizard wasn't actually one…

"Good work, Irisha," the man smirked, picking up his wand and watching with satisfaction the auror which was lying unconscious in the corridor and magically smashed away the first door.

Waiting anxiously in the cell, Blaise finally met the expected death-eater, covered by the familiar cape and mask. The intruder was hidden, yet a tenseness in his stance disclosed his obvious unease at carrying the common dark wizard attire. Zabini and the newcomer were fixing each other in the eye, both drawing their own conclusions.

Finally, the intruder swore and ran in the corridor. Unmoving, Blaise heard more doors opening and the students escaping then the man was back in their cell.

"Are you Blaise Zabini?" he asked.

Blaise frowned but nodded nonetheless. "Who told you my name?"

The gate-crasher's eyes showed a smirk and the action seemed familiar in these unknown pupils. "What does he have?" Reyan inquired, pointing at Theodore. He kneeled next to the boy and the smell was enough to answer his question. The unconscious young man reeked of sperm. The red marks on his cheeks and ears indicated much too clearly what atrocity had taken place in this prison.

"His heart is failing. I can't maintain him for long, he needs a healer."

Reyan flinched with rage. How old was the boy? Barely eighteen, maybe less. The other one, Zabini, didn't look much older, though Reyan couldn't see much with his face beaten up like that. If he was holding his friend alive, he wouldn't last long before his own body failed.

The demonist held out the wand for Zabini to take. "Use this to keep him alive. I'll get you out. Irch Irisha!"

Blaise backed to the wall as a monster the size of a young dragon appeared in the cell. Shadows moved and pressed against the outside wall, pushing more and more, bending the fragile edifice and stones, cracking it till moon light penetrated fully inside and the rocks fell down.

"You're a demonist!" Zabini exclaimed, eyes rounding.

Reyan didn't bother answering the obvious and scanned under the tower, noticing with a growl the fallen rocks had made no victim. "Get on her!" He ordered. Blaise hauled Theodore on the demon, neglecting his fear of the beast and its claws in favour of the boy's needs.

"She'll get you to a safe place on the island. Wait for me there." And the demon jumped down the tower.

Reyan's heart quailed at the loss of contact with Irisha. He felt naked and exposed without his demon at his side. Clutching tightly the antidote's vial in his hand, he ran back down, eluded the aurors and death-eaters and penetrated the undergrounds. Little remained to be done. Voldemort would free his death-eaters, the only endangered prisoner left would be Dumbledore, granted he wasn't killed during the attack.

The basement's corridors were numerous, cramped and sinuous. Reyan advanced randomly, opening doors here and there, searching for the cell that held the old wizard. He wasn't to be found. A bead of light abruptly erupted from a corner and stopped in front of Reyan. Before he had time to react, the quick steps of running people echoed in the underground and aurors invaded his corridor.

Dismissing his mission, he invoked a wall of fire to bock his pursuers and ran haphazardly. The aurors weren't stopped long by the obstacle and hunted after him. He raced in the corridors, darting left and right seeking a way out, and suddenly encountered a dead-end.

Staying immobile, he shadowed his body as the group of aurors passed some metres away from him.

"Connor!" he heard, "Check Dumbledore! The others, go on with the search. I want the bastard, dead or alive."

His breath deepened. Had there been one or two aurors, he could have taken them out, but there were five of them. He would get killed if he attempted to battle.

"Irisha," he murmured, "lend me your speed." Feeling the familiar energy gushing in him, he found a foothold, broke the phial at his floor, hoping the gaseous antidote would reach Dumbledore, and bolted head first toward the aurors, passing them in a dash of air and sprinted for the exit.

The rush of demonic power had already come to its end. It had been enough to get him some advance but he was loosing ground at every corner, unsure of his way.

Ahead of him, he perceived the sound of magical engagements and ran for it. In a battle, he could be swallowed and lost in the crowd.

At last, he caught sight of the fighters and searched for garments similar to his. But there was no trace of black robes and masks. Why were aurors fighting each other? The surprise made him halt a heartbeat. That brief instant was too much. Aurors had caught up.

He felt the spell coming in his back, scented the power in it, the danger it represented and the damage it would cause, but knew he wouldn't be quick enough to turn and counter it.

Reyan barely registered another wand pointing at him that a shield of energy erupted in his back and stopped the hex.

Second later, a heap of bodies carpeted the floor. In front of Reyan, two men remained standing. One, he recognised instantly as Draco's father. But what could he be doing there? The other… Never had the demonist met any human alike him. The man's face was dismal and reptilian; his eyes shone of a power that attracted Reyan as a butterfly to light.

"Who are…" the man began.

"Master!" A woman screamed, "Reinforcements are coming!"

Master?

"Let's go!"

Reyan followed the two men, but they were barely out of the prison that their group was blocked by an army of aurors. Wherever he looked, his sight was blocked by more wizards. The fighting had broken off in favour of a silent scrutiny and Reyan detected some justified glumness in the aurors' eyes at their obvious number superiority. Short a miraculous event, the death-eaters would lose.

He gave serious thought to calling once more for Irisha's power to help, but the previous action of 'reptilian face' kept him from fleeing the scene. That man had probably saved his life. The code of demonists requested that Reyan pay his debt and help the death-eater.

His presence made no odds they were in dire need of help.

The silence and calm was worrying him. The longer it lasted, the longer the aurors would have to regroup… or to count their dead, he smirked.

And in the stiffness of the island, he guessed more than he felt a familiar wave pulling at his energy, demanding allegiance. Death was angry.

Afraid to give in to the hope of such unexpected help, he lowered his eyes to the floor and resisted the glee menacing to escape at the sight that greeted him. The tables had turned.

Battle exploded. Curses flied everywhere. Reyan pointed the fallen auror's wand at his enemies before striking fire at them, running here and there, till he found the reason of his presence. The man was still backed by the Malfoy senior and they fought alongside, bringing pain and demise with each of their curses.

Approaching them amidst the hostilities, he felt their sporadic looks on him at his attempts to get near them. Now was the moment. All of a sudden, he called for his demon, dropped the wand and invoked a bursting circle of fire around the three of them. Two wands were immediately on him and he hold up his hands.

"For now, we are allies," Reyan only said.

He hadn't foreseen the suspicious reaction. Hopefully, Irisha landed in the middle of them and the view of the two young Slytherins on her back were enough to convince them… for the moment.

"Take them and apparate away. I'll withhold the aurors."

Fire was feeding of his energy in massive waves. He couldn't afford more time. But the snake man was already in movement, catching the dying boy in his arms and screaming for retreat.

"Time to show them what demonists are worth, beauty," Reyan whispered to his demon. Irisha vanished and their energy bounded. He felt the muscles in his legs extending and their strength increasing. "Death," he murmured.

His eyes sparkled at the powerful and rampant answer of the land. Whoever had called for the unholy goddess had angered her enough that the gate to her realm had remained open for her wrath to fulfil.

"I summon, you, heathen goddess of old. Hear the plea of your child."

Ancient markings disinterred from the soil, magic pouring out of them and all gazes were drawn to him. Aurors who had been keen on capturing the fleeing death eaters realised the danger came from elsewhere.

"Don't you feel it under your feet?" Reyan screamed, "Death! Death is coming for you!"

But the help that came wasn't the one he had expected. The ground didn't shake from corpses digging up, the air didn't vacillate from flames. A massive shape of foreboding darkness suddenly blocked the little light from stars they had been granted.

"Dementors!" people screamed.

Reyan laughed as the aurors were put to rout. "Hold your ground. I bid you stand and subdue our enemies!"

Death was only too happy to play. Foolish wizards who had thought they could invoke and subject her. Impudent mortals who dared defy her on the lands she had won!

Reyan watched as aurors were evacuating the prisoners to another place, fearing they would escape.

"So much for dispersing the antidote…"

A curse flew toward Reyan and he jumped aside, deeming it was time to leave. Smirking, he sprang into action, stretching his legs to the limit, and ran among aurors and dementors, and in no time such Irisha's speed was great, he had reached the coast. Looking back a last time, he surveyed the aurors fleeing their once so beloved prison.

"Judgement day's not coming," he sang under his breath, "Judgement day's not coming… soon enough."

And he was gone.

o-

**Meanwhile**

The dark lord contemplated his healers working on his death-eaters and their children, a faint smile curving his lips. This was by far his greatest victory of the last years. For the first time, they were all reunited, safe and sound. Azkaban was in ruins, the Phoenix in his possession, Dumbledore in jail, Lucius at his side and the Ministry about to commit their worst error.

Future was looking bright again. Unbeknownst to Draco, the young demonist had set into motion what would remain a decisive turn in the battle of Light and Dark.

Mrs Parkinson suddenly turned toward him and he was distracted from his satisfaction by the question in her eyes. Of the two Slytherins rescued by the mysterious demonist, young Nott had been put into an artificial sleep and treated. But when had Blaise Zabini become a death-eater?

"Heal him then send him to the library," Voldemort said and left, followed by Malfoy.

Their walk through the house was uneventful, despite Avery stopping them to give his report to his lord, wishing his look could kill the traitor his master seemed so keen on protecting.

"Your son called for a legacy of Merlin," Voldemort informed when they were seated.

Surprise may have been greater if, in the last months, his son hadn't gotten him used to his unforeseen moves and Lucius' eyebrows barely hooked.

"I suppose you have no idea of what he may have bequeathed."

Deeming the question as rhetorical, Lucius didn't answer. He was observing his past master, just as Voldemort was watching him, his eyes pensive and unreadable.

Years ago, as the new dark lord had been assessing his existence and supremacy, he had been told of the Malfoy heir, Hogwart's prodigy of the time. Barely some days later, they were meeting for the first time and Voldemort had taken a moment to consider the young man. While Lucius and his father shared the same features, the older version hadn't been able to convey the sheer intensity of the icy eyes. The dark robes he had been wearing contrasted with his colouring, clouding the sun-blond strands in a halo of light.

Voldemort remembered thinking the young man carried his name well.

He had instantly detested him. Irrational feeling as it may be, his control streak wouldn't allow him to relinquish it. Lucius radiated presence and assurance, a subtle charisma that drew appreciative looks from his then few death-eaters. Whether it was the consequence of that perfection, this image of Light, or the cause of some jealousy at being momentarily overlooked by his followers, Voldemort had wanted to crush the teenager.

Fortunately, magic hadn't yet taken a toll on his mind and he had been able to reign on his temper, long enough to realise what a formidable danger the child could become if let loose in Dumbledore's hands, or what a great ally for his own side, should he let himself be convinced.

However, the young man's conversation was as cold as his looks and he subtly warded off the matter of an allegiance under layers of information on Dumbledore's affairs. There was a sincerity about him that wasn't feigned, but it was mixed with an aloofness that made him difficult to really know.

Being on the receiving end of both muggles and wizards' hatred for years, unable to get people to go along his thoughts, it was something Voldemort could cope with. Lucius Malfoy wasn't a man to yield. Tom Riddle wasn't a man to give up.

Two years after their first meeting, as Lucius' schooling came to an end, the dark lord had to admit the teenager had gradually grown on him. The young man was smart. Not just book smart, but truly understanding of the human condition. Lucius had a wide thirst for learning and Voldemort had been willing to indulge. There was a young man whom he could relate to, not in their course to power but in the simple research of wisdom, these tiny bits of satisfaction at having gained knowledge.

Their collaboration had been fructuous, till his greediness undermined his wisdom. Dark magic is like a wild beast, constantly waiting for an instant of weakness. His forth horcruxe had been one too much. Slowly, his mind had been gnawed at by darkness, forcing him into irrational retrenchments. Unplanned attacks, needless butcheries, his initial resolutions of gaining the wizarding world to his cause had made headway to a will of domination.

He had then committed his worst error: he had forced Lucius into taking the dark mark. For years, the man had been his most faithful ally, offering his strength, brains and money to their cause. He had been his companion, the co writer of every battle plan, his insight into the Ministry.

Sane again, Voldemort could now fully appraise that the moment he had held Lucius down, forcing him on his knees as he burnt the dark mark on his forearm; he had dug his own grave.

A constrained Lucius was difficult to control. His looks had grown heavier on Voldemort's back and while the high lord wouldn't have dared betray his Lord, his advice had made itself scarce, more and more plans getting thwarted by the Order.

Draco's birth had achieved to destroy what relation they had salvaged.

And that night, as Voldemort had at last learnt of the Potters' hiding place, when he had been preparing to leave, Lucius had looked at him, a deep and controversial sight that had dampened the dark lord's good mood, causing him to snap at the man. Then Lucius had turned away and fled the confrontation, or so he had thought. He realised now the high lord had ultimately condoned his death.

Twelve years spent as a spirit hadn't taught him anything and when back, his behaviour had matched the past, his abandon of Lucius in prison causing, in the end, the fatal rip. Voldemort assessed whatever he could reconstruct after forcing his right-hand man, his whom he had considered a friend, into the hands of their enemy.

Somehow, by helping Thomas and distributing the power of the horcruxes over two minds, Draco had saved the dark lord's sanity. His position was tight, his defences few, his enemies numerous and most of the Slytherin house saw him as a madman, but if he could get Lucius back, he was certain the situation would brighten. He needed his friend back at his side.

He had learnt his lesson: one doesn't force Lucius Malfoy. One may cuddle his beauty with looks, kiss his vanity and arouse his mind but in the end, the high lord's hand was solely his to give.

"You wondered why I didn't punish you?"

The sudden broach of the subject focused Lucius' attention.

"This is only because I can't afford to fight you anymore. You are too powerful to control or threaten."

The Lord Malfoy had too much control to brighten at the compliment, but his entrails were having one whale of a time. "You could kill me."

"And annihilate any help from your son… or yourself? The death-eaters will fall, Lucius. But my primary goals could be reached yet. The coming to powers of Draco is marking the beginning of a new age. The Light will be forced to recognise Darkness and accept their equality. They will bid it welcome or be crushed by demonists."

Lucius smirked. Dumbledore wouldn't like that…

"My last battles were wrong. Muggles have no part in this conflict. It should never have been about power but recognition and equity. We will install a new government. Fight again at my side, Lucius. Be my ally."

Ambition may be a trait of Slytherins, but long gone were the days when Lucius had been blinded by it. He had once been young and a warrior, he now was a father and his priority was his son. In no way would he be on a different side. Draco had showed friendship to those of the Light, but displayed dark magic. Whose cause would he defend?

"You tried to kill me," he reminded with a scowl.

"You had betrayed me."

"I refused to let my son join someone who valued so little his servants as to let them die in prison."

"For you had failed at your mission."

"Was it a reason to leave me at the hands of the enemy?"

Voldemort sighed. Death had at least taught him that. Sometimes, some fights should better be fought on his knees. "What do you want, Lucius? Excuses? Then I am excusing. I should have gone for you."

Lucius was struck. The dark lord had never excused, to anybody.

"What are you playing at?" he babbled.

"No game Lucius." Voldemort got up and bent over Lucius, his hands firmly holding the armrests of his chair. "I want you at my side." Touching his forehead to the high lord's, he added in a whisper: "I need you at my side."

Lucius shook his head frantically. "No!" he shouted, shoving the dark lord away, aware and uncaring he was pushing his luck. "You branded me!"

"I was a fool!"

Voldemort grasped Lucius' hand and pulled him toward the door. After a heartbeat of surprise, Malfoy fought back, struggling to free his arm but the dark lord was retaining it in a tight grip. Unable to regain his liberty, he pushed Voldemort against the wall of the corridor and pointed his wand at his neck.

He was immediately surrounded by deatheaters, their wands on him, ready to hex at the first opening.

Glancing at them with care, he focused on Voldemort and pressed his wand harder at the carotid. "I don't know what you seek, but never again will I let myself be treated like an animal," he hissed.

The dark lord laid his hand on Lucius' but didn't attempt to divert the wand. "And never again will I treat you in any way but as my equal."

He paused and bent his neck backwards to offer better access. "I want to use the altar."

Lucius gritted his teeth. "I don't. I won't bow to anybody."

Their eyes met. "I don't require your bowing. I wish to carry out only the second part of the ceremony."

"What..." Lucius let his arm down and snorted in derision. "All your fine-sounding words would fail to convince anybody. You would never put yourself in such a position of weakness."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take for you." He sighed. "But you are right. Words wouldn't prove anything."

Voldemort extricated himself from the group and went to a door in the corridor, holding it open for Lucius, a gleam of defy in the eyes. "Acts maybe?"

Uncertain, Lucius followed inside and looked as the door was locked. And as he watched the dark lord disrobe then undress, his clothes falling on the floor one after the other till the man was completely naked, as he witnessed Voldemort, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, lie on the altar and deposit the Sword of Slytherin on his torso, waiting for the good-will of his once servant, Lucius fathomed at last the depth of the changes the man had overcome.

Centuries into the past, the ceremony had started by a private dinner washed down with plenty of wine for the two parties, at the end of which their alcohol-induced minds registered only the need for the merging. The Duke of Erkas of the time then proceeded to possess the Malfoy, using all tricks to make him enjoy the coupling and flood his mind with pleasure and orgasms. And as he lied down on the altar, his sword from his neck to his crotch, he offered his vassal his last and only chance to take whatever revenge he may wish against his Lord for whatever offence he may think of, before the man offered his everlasting allegiance.

But they hadn't dined, Lucius' thoughts were perfectly clear and he judged Voldemort had quite a few grieves to atone for before he deemed his Lord worthy once again.

o-

**Demonic world, desert**

After the short battle that had shaken the demonists, calm had come back on the tribe. The inhabitants' opinions on Draco's presence were divided. This was a wizard-born demonist attacking their homes and the son of their lord. But this also was a wizard-born demonist partly wronged by their ambiguous behaviour and who had forgiven them. Let's not forget this was a wizard-born demonist, one who, seconds after the battle, using the last of his energy to heal the wounds he had caused, had trusted their tribe enough to rest among them.

But for now, what interested the gossipers more was the current conversation between their chief and his son. Lord Hillirhan had been angry at his heir's attitude during the battle, but could Kaalan have let the shaman get attacked by the stranger? Sha'Sinaï claimed the shadow hurl wouldn't have hurt him, but what if he had miscalculated the energy put in the blow?

Such questions explained the crowd around the lord's tent, where the wizard-born was sleeping in, and the shaman's tent, where the discussion was taking place.

"One day, this tribe will be yours!" Lord Hillirhan was roaring, "You have to learn to protect it with the lives of some if need be."

"But the shaman is the most important member of the tribe!" Kaalan growled back, "We need him!"

"And what will you do of a shaman if there's no tribe to protect left?"

This time, the young man didn't know what to answer. Reigning on his temper, Hillirhan pulled his son toward the mats and sat with him.

"Kaalan, you need to realise that Sinaï isn't as harmless as he looks. He may be old but he remains part of the strongest of this tribe. Shades would bruise him but no more. I don't expect you to understand now, but one day, you will see a shaman in training, and you will fathom that their strength isn't in the physique but in their incredible resistance. You can't kill a shaman without going to extraordinary lengths."

The demonist remained silent. He remembered the old man who had taught him to walk, his skeletal body and frail hands. Could that same man be as strong as his father claimed? Before he could ask for more information or defend his case, the first sentinel had penetrated in the tent.

"The wizard-born is awakening, my Lord," Ir's Shaf acquainted them of. It was the shaman who had ordered him the ear-tapping of that particular tent, wanting to avoid a second uncontrolled confrontation when the stranger would awake and walk among their people.

"Already…" Hillirhan frowned. The wizard-born had fought them then charged two crystals. Surely he would need more rest than some mere hours? Had his sleep been bothered?

"His body feels quite rested," the sentinel said, anticipating the question, "He's awakening on his own."

Containing their surprise, all exited the tent and dispersed the crowd. Sha'Sinaï, who had been watching on the wounded on the other side of the camp, was already joining them. At Kaalan's wonder of how the holy man could have known, the shaman smiled softly and took the young man's hand, turning its palm toward the closed opening of Hillirhan's tent.

"When the soul carrying such power awakes, waves of energy travel all around it and perturb Wind's order. Do you feel them?"

Kaalan concentrated on the tent, ignoring his sister joining them, and let Wind caress his open hand. Soul was the aerial god's human attribute and he was much more present near those of strong souls. The wizard-born mastered two demons and controlled two wizards. His essence was charged with their minds. Exhaustion and sleep had lessened the moves in his soul, but his awakening made his mind assert back his allegiances. The large amount of energy being moved stirred the air around him and Kaalan felt the small lashings of Wind against his palm. It was proof of the shaman's power that the man had felt them from so far away.

Inside the tent, contained by his body, Draco's mind was screaming for his memories back. Soft lips curved in a gentle smile, tender eyes were looking at him with a proud expression.

_And I felt your body, twisting around me; your breath kissing my soul, your lips fondling my heart, in a surreal ballet of flesh and thirst. I wanted you, I yearned to touch your skin, to caress your limbs, to make you squirm under me and beg for my hands on you. _

He needed to know who was he whom had bewitched his heart so. Just as his mind was creating his connections to his demons back, his heart was longing for another, one that he wished he could recall.

It was in this feeling of dissatisfaction and emptiness that he awoke. His eyes adjusting to the tempered light, he observed the inside of the place as he remembered slowly the events that had preceded his blackout. Hath'Gack added some personal comments about his master's current position under the Lord's tent.

'They are waiting outside for you,' he ended with an amused tone of voice.

Getting up, Draco pondered on the behaviour to adopt. If he was to put his plans to execution, he would need back-up, and despite the sentinel's and the boy's hot reactions, their lord's loyalty and their shaman's knowledge and chivalry seemed satisfying enough. A patent aversion for their attitude told him that a cunning twist of Fate was making him wish for the help of people he would have once despised for these same traits.

He noticed that while his cloth shoes had been taken off for commodity, the cloth belt that kept his face from prying eyes had merely been loosened as to enable breathing and still keep his features anonymous. The act of respect wasn't lost on him: Hillirhan was a man of honour.

He put back on his shoes then tightened the turban around his head. He calmed his slightly accelerated heart and exited the tent.

As Hath'Gack had warned, the most important members of the tribe were all reunited and waiting for him. Controlling his breathing, he advanced toward them, aware of the numerous prying eyes hidden around the tents, eager to catch a sight of the wizard-born. The children, two sentinels and a soldier frowned when noticing the turban hiding his face, probably considering it an affront to their tribe's welcome, but the lord, shaman and another older soldier looked more amused than anything by the action.

When Draco was an arm away from Hillirhan, he stopped, uncertain of the conduct to have, but it seemed that etiquette and diplomacy had been ingrained in his manners since his youngest age as he saluted the lord with a bow of the head and looked at him in the eyes.

"I thank you and your tribe, Lord Hillirhan, for your generous hospitality. Considering the way we met, your probity honours you. I will make sure your uprightness is known beyond your borders."

"And your words are a testament to your own fairness, Lord Chosen. Such nobility and forgiveness are rarely found nowadays."

For a young man as proud and ambitious as Draco, wishful to make his name known throughout the two worlds, to be called lord by a man whom he had judged as honest and moral was a delightful feeling. His eyes screwed up with pleasure.

"I am only acting the way I am treated." A nice way to discreetly blame the son for the battle and to praise the father's behaviour at the same time. Thankfully, the lord was intelligent enough to fathom the hidden excuse to the tribe but also to understand that his son's attitude would determine the continuation of their relations.

Hillirhan nodded in thanks and his eyes lit with a glint, showing his comprehension of the message. "My tribe and I would be flattered if you would accept to dine among us."

"I would be most delighted," Draco accepted the invitation. 'And Death preserve me from the mint milk thing…' he thought.

They all headed for the centre of the camp where pillows were being installed for dinner. A big fire had been started and various meats were roasting on it. The sun was slowly setting down, rendering the temperature very comfortable for an outside meal.

Despite the open hospitality whom he had received in the devils' tribe, Draco felt more at ease among his fellow demonists. Here was a group of people sharing his powers and beliefs. Their world had appeared to him like a mortal heaven and their traditions were flowing through him as though he had grown up immersed in them. Whether they liked him or not wasn't an issue anymore. He was home.

Draco was offered a seat between the lord and the shaman and once more, appreciated the lord's attention. A child, probably some page, passed among them presenting bowls of fresh water for them to wash their hands.

The tempting smell of the meats cooking gently on the spits over the fires, and the mild fumes of soup simmering in big marmites woke up Draco's stomach and he recalled he hadn't eaten the whole day.

"While we wait for our cooks to catch up on us," said Hillirhan with a light tone, "allow me to present to you our shaman, Sha' Sinaï, whom you already met." Draco bowed his head to the man he had already taken into liking. "The two impetuous children in front of us are mine: Kaalan and Kiria. The man at Sinaï's side is one of our two sentinels: Irs'Galan. Finally," he beckoned the old man and young soldier whom Draco had recently noticed, "This is our commander Merin and his first apprentice Gekin."

Hillirhan bent toward Draco in an imperceptible move and lowered his voice. "The men you wounded were his friends."

There was no reproach in the voice, and Draco saw in this information a simple way to warn him of the young man's cold behaviour to come.

Suddenly, the shaman got up, walked toward the cooking meats and, to Draco's surprise, started reciting what sounded like prayers. Seeing the bewildered look that he hadn't been quick enough in hiding, the commander explained: "He is going through the barriers of Death to ascertain the meats are free of soul and good to be eaten."

Draco nodded in thanks at the explanation, devoid of malice, that the old soldier had provided. He didn't miss, though, the disgusted and mocking smirk that marked Kaalan's lips. Feeling his patience nearing quickly, Draco glared at the sand master, who reciprocated.

Hillirhan had been occupied watching the approaching group of his first sentinel and some soldiers he didn't recognise when he noticed the exchange and sent his son a reproachful look.

He turned to Draco. "I excuse once more for the attitude of my tribe. My sincerest gratitude for not taking the fight further."

Aware this was more of an attempt to distract his attention and at the same time remind Kaalan of his duties than an apology which had already been done, Draco chose to settle the matter once and for all.

"This fight should never have been," he said, "I could blame your son for it, but it would be unfair of me and I am forced to recognise my own wrongs."

The talk seemed quite out of place in his mouth but he could easily imagine the blue eyes that haunted his dreams lightning with pride and love. Or was it his imagination…

Between the lord's son and he, inside the golden flames that composed the fire, were sparkling two eyes. All followed his captivated look and froze.

"Sinaï," Hillirhan called, "What is happening?"

"A switch in the energy scales," the shaman explained, his enthralled eyes showing his own surprise at the events. "Great power is moving on the other side on the Shadow World. It's weakening the wall and somebody is taking advantage of it."

Draco's hands were trembling at witnessing for what seemed like the first time the being who owned him entirely. Warmth flooded through his veins in torrents and his mind swirled with memories. He recalled a beast, a monster whom he had offered his love to during one of these nights when they were running a forest.

Prompted by a desire he couldn't control anymore, he got up, walked to the fire and, ignoring the gasps behind him, plunged his hands in the flames.

"I feel you in my heart, in my soul," he talked to the apparition in English, "So near and yet so far away. Who are you?"

The eyes became sad and his heart lurched at the pain his words had caused. In a desperate attempt to repair his error and ease his own yearning, he closed his hands. His palms met with fur and he caressed the so longed creature.

From his place, Hillirhan witnessed an event which he would remember for the rest of his life. The wizard-born was reverently petting a creature whose appearance was slowly getting revealed, letting place to a small but nonetheless majestic Hayak of brown fur. The fire was growing wild and escaping its restrictive stones, progressively enveloping the wizard-born's feet then legs, till his whole body was covered in them.

In the middle of the camp, now watched by every member of the tribe, the blazing forms of the couple of demonist and hayak were embracing, projecting wreaths of light in the darkening sky, illuminating it in a thousand glittering rainbows.

And far away, beyond the burning sand of the desert, across the cold stones of the abandoned city, reigning over the immensity of the Dying Sea, the misty dragons lifted up their head and saw the glowing sky. Thrills quivered up their long bodies as they recognised the unmistakable smell of the human, him they had heard though the Veil so long ago, the one that carried their name. The Chosen had arrived, it was time to awake.

In the camp, the apparition was slowly vanishing. When there remained no more than a vague memory of two blue eyes, Draco stepped out of the fire circle and walked back. All stares were fixed on him, no one dared to talk.

Who could have been strong enough to open a gate through the worlds' walls? Hillirhan wondered. He was aware of the thinness of the Shadow World, over a squat piece of lands, near the camp. No more than a month ago, the shaman had felt energy coming from this part of ground and Hillirhan now suspected the wizard-born had been the reason of it, probably to capture one of his demons.

However, what had just taken place couldn't be attributed to the gods' chosen, but to this creature. Its appearance had been so alike that of the Hayaks that Hillirhan could only wonder: could it be a cursed one?

In that moment, the lord fathomed the scheme of the unholy gods. A demonist, born wizard, master to both demons and wizards, screaming like a dragon, and whose heart had been offered to a werewolf, part of the Hayaks, long-lost allies of the demonists. So many connections already. But where was the role of the Salins in this?

He had to abandon his thoughts as silence was prolonging. The tribe was still watching the wizard-born, devoid of all apprehension, brimming with fondness for the young chosen. Overlooking the suddenness of the scene and the little choice the wizard-born had been given in its occurring, they had warmed up to the young man who had presented them his beloved.

It is full of pride and contentment that they looked at the wizard-born bowing to their lord.

"I realise I am being quite discourteous in reply to your tribe's welcome, and never presented myself." Draco put his hands to his head and untied the turban, slowly unwinding it, letting appear, to the awe of the population, white-blond hair, which had never been witnessed in the desert among the last two centuries. When the cloth rested totally on the sand, he bowed once more. "My name is Assiir, from the First World. I thank you again for your tribe's reception, Lord Hillirhan."

The lord had remained sitting, watching the display with a hidden impressed look. 'This one enjoys grand presentations. He waited on purpose,' he thought, 'No wonder Death chose him. She would never have taken someone too modest…'

He got up from his pillow. "It's on behalf of us all that I voice my joy and honour at welcoming you among us, Lord Assiir. I hope you will enjoy your stay."

At length, they sat back and Hillirhan watched with despondency and resignation his son rolling his eyes. As soon as the inhabitants had started to disperse back to their places, Irs'Shaf approached him.

"My lord," he said, "Soldiers from Lord Preulk's tribe are here."

The first moment of surprise passed, the visitors were introduced.

When they faced each other, the attention of the soldiers wasn't on the lord, but on the wizard-born, who smirked. "Already, we meet again," he drawled. "We encountered yesterday, near the devils' land," Draco explained to Hillirhan. "Uron here accepted to follow me in battle."

Said soldier kneeled to the lord. "Lord Hillirhan, my deepest thanks for accepting to receive us so soon." Then he turned toward Draco. "Upon learning of our altercation and its conclusion, Lord Preulk sent us to excuse in his name, and to remain in your service for as long as you wished us to be."

Draco smirked. "Smart man," he murmured, "he understood quickly."

Hillirhan listened attentively to the conversation. A battle, the demonist had talked about. Was he planning on going to war? Against whom? It seemed conspicuous that Assiir had more to his mind than visiting the desert. Did Uron and Lord Preulk understand the purpose they were serving? Probably, for Preulk wasn't one to adhere to a cause without good reason.

Hillirhan thought he had guessed the gods' intent, yet the outrageousness of his suspicions made him doubt. Only fools had dared approach the immortal city since its destruction. This one was watched by the demonist gods, those same that contributed so much to the creation of the city, or witnessed its decadence. For two hundred years, they had waited, desperately, watching out for their mortal chosen.

Hidden in his master's shade, Hath'Gack observed the dinner. He knew he wasn't alone in his sighting. Since their arrival in the second world, Mind hadn't left them alone.

From his world of perpetual shades, the aerial god reigned over the mortals. Before his fifth birthday, when little Draco had fallen into his great-grand-father's cave, when he had stared at the books in awe and admiration, the moment he had gotten his first taste of shadows, invoking a devil, his future had nearly been sealed. Fate had set her heart on the little wizard. However, Draco's growing hatred of all things non-wizard had quickly cast him off of her scope. Never such a hateful wizard would grow into a suitable demonist chief.

She had reported her sight on a little gifted girl: her Oracle. The girl was promising and the man she had chosen to protect her gained even Fate's approval. He was a werewolf, a race friendly to demonists, and a gentle man. He was perfect for the job. Occupied with her new project, Fate forgot about the little dragon. Mind didn't.

He was present when the boy's father was imprisoned and the child's allegiances took a complete turn. He was just above when the precious werewolf of Fate met again with the dragon, moulding his disgust into respect and his hatred into pity. He was here when Death charted his fall at Voldemort's hand and smiled when it missed and acquired the boy a new friend.

Some months later, he was still there, weighing the pros and cons, as Draco was dying on his bed, with only Dumbledore's energy to sustain him as he was being destroyed by the wrench of his magic into wizard and demonic. The sight of Karnar the imp, tears welled in his eyes, decided him. The boy had come so far already, in so little time. Such occasion to take a wizardborn into his service could never come again.

Therefore, unseen by Death, he climbed down from his shadows and, hidden in the room, decided in place of Fate the destiny of the boy. He would be a demonist.

This act caught back the attention of Fate and intrigued her enough that she changed once again her decision and wrote again her plans for the Dragon in the book of destiny, claiming to Death that the boy wouldn't be hers to kill. Death had pouted and balked against their decision but the soon realisation of what she could do with such a servant quickly decided her.

All they needed now was to bring the Dragon where they wanted him. The attack had taken care of that. And Mind went on watching. The little Dragon had a fierce temper and Death underestimated his affection for the Potions master. He wasn't going to appreciate learning who had permitted the Salin to traverse the Shadow World. By he didn't care about Death's wishes. Assiir was well on his way to accomplish the mission Mind had set out for him. It may be time to give him back his memories...

End of chapter 12.


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